Loving A Holmes
by C.C. Red
Summary: Madison Love: "You are also very protective of those close to you, as I can't imagine that lists is very long you have to be. And You are still alone because you feel that no one will ever be able to match your intelligence. And you are very intimidated by mine." Follow the story of Madison Love Moriarty as she beings working his her brother's number one enemy. story from BBC
1. The Man Behind the Hat

Chapter One

The Man Behind the Hat

After moving from Cambridge to London and moving into 223b Baker street about two days ago, I have finally settle in, getting everything in my small flat where I need or want it. I decide to introduce myself to my new neighbors. Though I'm not sure if they are even home at this time, even though it is a little after one o'clock, they seem to come and go at all hours. But having made a small batch of Gingernut Biscuits, I decide to give it a try. Before I leave I make sure that I look somewhat decent. I'm not sure if I'm really dressed to impress with my long sleeved grey top, powered pink, almost white jeans, and grey flats, with my long black hair falling over my right shoulder, but I am comfortable, but to me that's what matters.

As I go to knock on the door I can hear the two young men arguing about something, maybe they're having a little domestic? Despite the noise I knock anyway. When the door opens a short young man answers the door. Will, I shouldn't say short, he is a little taller then I am, at my small height of 1.67 meters or 5 foot 6 inches. His hair is a light brown and brushed to the side, his eyes are also brown, but they are deep and warming. The man and I greet each other with smiles.

"Hello, what can I do for you?"

"Hello, I am your new flat neighbor, Madison Love. I thought I'd stop by and introduce myself."

He chuckles and nods, looking down at the plate in my hands.

"Of course, I'm John Watson, come in. uhh... Are those Gingernuts?"

"Yes, they are. Are you a fan?"

The Watson nods,

"Yes, but my flatmate is an even bigger one."

The two of us walk inside and up the stairs to the main are of the flat where a rather tall young man is pacing around the room, chewing on his thumb nails. He is much taller then I am, with dark brown hair, with eyes are as blue as the ocean and just as lovely. As we walk into the main room, I hand the plate to Watson who takes a biscuit and calls to the young man as we enter the room.

"Sherlock, this is our new neighbor Madison Love. She uh… made ginernuts."

The young man seems to stop in his tracks after hearing 'gingernuts,' and turns to face Watson and I.

"Yes, hello. Now while I love gingernuts John and I have a case to solve, so we will be seeing you around?"

Watson scolds Sherlock as he turns back around, after grabbing a biscuit.

"Sherlock, please show some form of manners."

I look between the two of them at little confused.

"A case?"

Watson nods and shifts towards me.

"Sherlock and I are detectives for hire."

"Oh like Jim Rockford or Sam Spade?"

Watson laughs, a rather heartwarming, kind laugh.

"Yes, something like that."

Sherlock turns to me and points.

"Tell me, Ms. Love, if there is a string of robberies, with no signs of forced entry, with seeming no connections. How where they done?"

I look between Watson and Sherlock, a little confused and thrown off for a moment.

"Some time today, Ms Love."

"Uhh…. there has to be some connection. Possibly their security system? It may be a long shot, but given the amount of installers in the area, it is very possible all of their systems to be installed by the same person, and with those systems there is always one code that will unlock any of the company's systems."

Sherlock stands there for a moment, before clapping his hands, startling John and I.

"I like her."

He says with a smile on his face. John laughs Sherlock's comment, as Sherlock turns his attention to me again.

"Tell me, what you deduce about John and myself?"

I look between the two of them, thinking for a moment. Taking a deep breath and turning to John before starting.

"Served in her majesty's army, either Afghanistan or Iraq. If I had to guess I'd say Afghanistan. Returning after being injured, probably shot, my guess is the shoulder, while I'm not sure which. You are also a writer of some sort, well not really a writer so much as a typist, judging for the state of your fingernails."

Sherlock nods as I turn to him, putting his arms out, almost as if to say 'try me,' or 'come for me.'

"You play the violin, from the calluses on your fingers. You've had a drug problem in your life, that you are still struggling with a rather low points in your lifes."

Sherlock nods again.

"Very good, now allow me to deduce you. You recently moved to London, although that's rather obvious due to the fact you are meeting new neighbors. You were recently engaged, but that ended due to something along the lines of you being much smarter than him, judging from the ring impression on your left ring finger and the brilliance you have shown thus far. You prefer to look nice, although if given the choice between comfort and fashion, you'll choose comfort everytime."

I smile softly and chuckle.

"Very good, Mr Holmes."

"Thank you, Ms Love."

I chuckle softly as Sherlock and I take a small step toward each other.

"Please, call me Madison."

"If you'll call me Sherlock."

I nod.

"I think that would be acceptable."


	2. Moriarty

Chapter Two

Moriarty

It had been a few days since I meet my next door neighbors, a rather odd man named Sherlock Holmes. It's odd but as I go about trying to getting things moved around my flat where I want them. But I am very distracted, I have never meet a man who could deduce things about people like I could from a simply look. Out of curiosity, I decided to try and find John's blog, of course it would be a blog since he is a frequent typer.

It doesn't take me long to find the blog, 'The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson,' not a very catchy, but I suppose it gets to the point. I spend a little while reading a few of the stories, finding the Blind Banker, a very interesting case and continue reading on. After I while I come across a case titled The Great Game, having already read A Study In Pink I find some of the similarities in the case brillant. But I freeze when I see the name Moriarty. I whisper to myself.

"No, he can't mean….."

I shake my head thinking of my previous name and my brothers. One of my brothers is a rail line announcer, while the other is a criminal for hire. That's why I changed my name from Madison Moriarty to Madison Love. That must be the man that John Watson is talking about in his blog, Jim Moriarty. I hang my head thinking, they can never know about this,

I go back to moving things around my apartment if nothing more then out of anxiety. As I am moving a couch to the other side of the room I slip and fall over the back of it, letting out a loud yelp as I fall forward. A few minutes later I hear a knocking on my flat door. I manage to get up and open the door to see John outside the door.

"Hello, is everything alright, I heard screaming."

I nod and laugh softly.

"Oh, yeah. I was trying to move my couch and fell over the back of it."

John laughs as well.

"Do you uh.. Do you want some help?"

"If you wouldn't mind, that would be really helpful."

He nods as I set to the side and let John into my flat. As John walks into the flat he glances down at my laptop on the coffee table, still opened to John's blog.

"Oh you read my blog?"

"Uhh.. I actually I just started."

"What do you think?"

"I enjoy it, it's put together really well."

"Oh thank you."

I nod and move over to behind the couch, as John asks the obvious question.

"So where are we moving the couch?"

"Uhh.. over against the other wall."

John nods as the two of us move behind the couch and start to push the couch. Quickly getting it to the other wall.

"Thank you, very much."

"Yeah, not a problem."

"Uhh. would you like a cuppa tea?"

"Sure, I'd love one."

I smile softly and begin making tea as John sits at the table I have in my kitchen area.

"So what do you do for a living?"

"Uh… I was a dance before moving to London. My brother is helping to support me until I get set up."

"Oh really? That's very nice of him".

"Yeah, well he is trying to repair a broken bond and he knows I've always wanted to live in London."

"We'll London is happy to have you."

John laughs softly as I pour the tea and set two cups down on the table. John is scratching the back of his head and smiling, a lot, it is very clear he is flirting. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at this thought.

"So. where you seeing anyone before you left?..."

"Cambridge, and no. I had been engaged for a time but my brother uhh… made a move, I suppose is the best way to put it, on my fiance so."

John looks up as if he is surprised.

"Oh you were with a woman?"

"No, my brother is fluid."

"That's an odd way to put it. I like it though."

I nod and take a sip of my tea and smile softly over at John who is trying to hold a conversation.

"So tell me what was your favourite case so far?"

Here is my chance to see what John and Sherlock know about my brother. But I can't let on that I know too much. Luckily it isn't that hard to act hair brained.

"Oh, umm… i don't remember the name of it. It was about the bombings."

"Oh.. The Great Game. That one was uhh.. Well interesting."

A few moments later I hear a knock at the door, looking over at John confused.

"Were you expecting anyone?"

I shake my head and begin to stand. However, before I can John is already heading for the door, putting a hand up to me as if to say stay there. I can imagine after working as a detective and going after some of the worst in London John is a little jumpy when it comes to people showing up at the flat unannounced. Once John gets the door opened I see Sherlock move swiftly past John into my flat, as John protests.

"Sherlock, you can't just walk into people's flats."

"I'm not walking into some random person's flat, but rather Madison's flat. Should I ask why you are here?"

John shakes his head, confused and annoyed.

"No you shouldn't. Should I ask why you are."

"Well, it is currently not to try and woo Ms. Love, as I imagine you are."

"Then why are you here."

I stand and almost have to shout over the two of them.

"Boys, if you're going to have a domestic could you do it in your own flat?"

John looks around Sherlock, who has his back to me and shakes his head.

"We are not having a domestic and we are not together. Sherlock, why are you here?"

Sherlock nods his head.

"There is a men here to talk to us about taking his case."

"Alright then. Madison I'll see you later."

John steps toward the door before Sherlock turns around.

"Why doesn't Ms. Love come with us? It will be nice to have another smart person in the room. That is if you wish to join us."

I nod and smile.

"Sure, sounds very interesting."

The three of us head up to the boys' flat where there is a middle aged man sitting in the middle of the room with an urn When we are in the flat John closes the door and gestures me toward one of the lounge chairs in the main room, while Sherlock leans against the desk and John stands almost behind the chair he had placed me in. After a few minutes Sherlock gestures to the man as if to tell him to start.

"Oh uhh.. I dont think my anut's ashes are really hers. I know human ash…"

Sherlock sighs,

"Leave."

The man looks up at him confused and taken back.

"What?"

John hangs his head and sighs.

"Sorry, we don't work these kinds of case."

The man nods and looks down at the floor, before getting up to leave. Once he is gone John closes the door behind him, while I glance between the two of them.

"So, is that it?"

Sherlock smirks,

"Oh no, Ms Love."

We spend the next few hours hearing different stories from people trying to hire Sherlock and John, most of which Sherlock shrugs off in a matter of moments. Showing the potential clients the door.


	3. What Does He Know?

Chapter Three

What Does He Know?

After spending most of my afternoon and evening listening to potential clients with John and Sherlock, I finally make it back flat. I almost throw myself onto the couch once I get in, not wanting to move. You won't think listening to people trying to hire a detective would be tiring, but the tiring part is listening to Sherlock explain why he is not talking the cases and solving them with in the matter of a few moments. I am smarter than most people but even I had trouble keeping up with him at a few moments in the evening.

After sitting on my couch for about twenty minutes I hear a knock on my flat door, whining to myself.

"What is it now?"

As I get up and make my way to the door. When I open in I am shocked to see Sherlock look down at me.

"Ms. Love."

"Mr. Holmes."

"Please call me Sherlock, there is no need to be formal."

"Then don't call me Ms. Love."

Sherlock nods and tilts his head to one side. As I sigh and shake my head.

"Is there something I can do for you, Sherlock?"

"Oh yes, you left your phone up stairs and John wanted me to tell you thank you for spending the afternoon and evening with us."

"Oh thank you."

I reach out to take my phone back from Sherlock, but he pulls it back.

"However, before I give your phone back to you there is something I would like to discuss with you."

I sigh softly.

"I am not planning on seeing John, so you don't have to worry."

"Oh please, I could care less about John's love life. No, I wanted to talk to you about your brother. As I imagine you will want to finish this conversation with in your flat."

I look up at him taken back, before moving for him to come inside.

"What about my brother?"

Sherlock looks around the main room of my flat, not saying anything. I sigh softly as I close the door and ask again.

"What about my brother?"

"Just that John and I have had a brush with him recently."

"Mr. Holmes I don't know what you think you know but…"

Sherlock puts his hand up.

"I don't think I know Ms. Love. I know. John may be an idiot but I am not."

I chuckle softly, knowing I've been beaten.

"How'd you figure it out?"

"You eyes and your cheeks for one. You are clearly related to one Jim Moriarty. You also mentioned to John that your brother was trying to mend a bridge between the two of you. I imagine that with a brother like Moriarty you can not be particularly proud of him and his work so that would make a distance relationship, and finally, John and I have problem renting our flat with two of us, while you're brother is making enough not only to pay for yours and cover your bills, but also his as well, without blinking an eye."

I nod.

"When did you figure it out?"

"Sadly, not until I was coming down. Your phone rang and the contact JM came up."

I nod and sigh softly.

"Well, as i'm sure you know, siblings are not always alike."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you have an older brother, don't you? I'm guessing he doesn't approve of his little brother being a freelance detective. Of course this is obvious with how much about the world that you don't know, indeccating you'd been protected from a lot of it until you got older and your brother left."

"I was not protected."

"Oh no, sorry. Coddled."

Sherlock looks at me with his mouth open, almost surprised by my notion.

"That's right Mr Holmes. I was not boosting about what I could do when we first met. I know everything. Your ongoing drug addiction, You are observed about everyone but yourself. You find it frustrating when you don't have a case to fill your time and you get even more frustrated when you get stuck while trying to solve one. You are a very skilled fighter although if you can avoid a fight with your brain you will. You are also very protective of those close to you, as I can't imagine that lists is very long you have to be. And You are still alone because you feel that no one will ever be able to match your intelligence. And you are very intimidated by mine."

I step toward Sherlock, knowing that my bite is just as big as my bark. Sherlock straightens up and nods.

"This is fun. Now let me do you. You have had a drug problem yourself, but are doing a great job staying away from it now, good for you. However, you replaced on addiction for another when you got engaged, tell me is sex really that much better when you are trying to avoid using? But that also helps to fill your time when you are not busy, which I can't imagine is very often. However, since you are not seeing anyone you have been having trouble sticking to your sobriety. You were taught to fight and shot by your brother, my money is on the criminal. You distance yourself from others because of your brother profession and you hate him for it."

The two of us are now standing toe to toe, staring enough other down. Although it is hard to stare down someone is much taller than you. I take a deep breath and clench my jaw as Sherlock takes a deep breath speaking softly.

"So tell me Madison Moriarty, is this where you slap me or kiss me."

I chuckle softly, before taking a small step back and slapping Sherlock, hard, across the cheek. When he brings his head back to center the two of us pull the other one in closely and begin kissing each other passionately.


	4. The Unusual Encounter

Chapter Four

The Unusual Encounter

The next thing I know I am looking up at the ceiling, out of breath with Sherlock beside me. I chuckle softly as I glance over to him, his dark curls almost drenched in sweat.

"Well, so much for you being completely detached from your emotions."

"Hmm? Oh, well you know, endorphins and hormones."

I nod and chuckle again.

"It's also a plus that we can verbally spare with each other."

Sherlock and I glance over at each other and start laughing, before hearing a knock on the door. I jump up and cover myself with the blanket. When I sit up Sherlock runs his long fingers from my shoulder down my back.

"No need to be bashful after I've seen it all."

I glance to him over my shoulder before getting up.

"Doesn't mean everyone needs to."

I grab my robe before heading to the door, opening it to see John who looks a little worried.

"Hello John, can I help you with something?"

John looks toward me, since he had been looking around. When his eyes land on me in my robe they widen, as his cheeks turn red.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't know that you had a guest."

I chuckle softly and shake my head.

"It's okay, John. What do you need?"

"Uhhh.. I was wondering if you'd seen Sherlock. I sent him down here to thank you for helping us today and return your phone."

Just then I hear Sherlock call out behind me, clearly not knowing how this situation may look to someone who sees a great value in emotional and romance relationships.

"Don't worry, John, no one's kidnapped me again."

When I turn around I see that Sherlock is back in his slacks, shirt in hand. When I turn John pokes his head into flat, to see his friend. Growing confused, embarrassed, and a little frustrated.

"Sherlock, that is not what I meant when I said to thank her."

I step to the side allowing John to step into the room, as Sherlock pulls his shirt on.

"I know, it was just a perk."

He smiles at John a little amused by his reaction.

"Or could it be you wanted to have intercourse with Ms. Love."

I laugh softly and shake my head.

"I think we are past last names, Mr Holmes."

I wink over a him, as he crosses the room to me.

"Of course, Ms Love. I hope we can enjoy each other's company again."

He's hand brushes over my side as he passes by me, as he gives me kind of a one armed hug, and exits my flat, leaving John standing there in awe.

"What… what just happened?"

I clear my throat and scratch the back of my head.

"Uhh… Verbal sparring gone a little too far?"

John shakes his head, clearly not use to thinking of Sherlock as a sexual creature. I sigh softly.

"John, everyone has those who are sexually appealing to them, even Sherlock."

"No, I know that. But someone who seems to be so…."

John stops trying to find the right words.

"So unlike Sherlock? He and I are more likely than you'd think. He are very very similar in some ways. Just as we are very different in others. It all comes down to the fact I have more emotional and social intelligence then Sherlock does, which is why I am able to appear more normal to the outside world then Sherlock can."

"Well you certainly sound a lot him when you say that."

"I imagine he'd tell you something very similar."

John nods and crosses back to the door.

"I'll uhh… see you later Madison."

"See you later, John."


	5. Meeting the Dominatrix

Chapter Five

Meeting the Dominatrix

It had been a few months since John had discovered Sherlock and I in a compromising position. The two of them had solved a few different cases and it was truly amazing to watch the two of them work. Even now and then I would have to explain something for John when Sherlock was off in his own world, which is quite a lot as I've noticed. Nonetheless, it's odd to see that people who are so different can works so well together and be so close.

Which is what I am thinking about as I head up to John and Sherlock's flat today. I hadn't seen Sherlock in a while and while the two us had continued to see each other and being with each other sexually, we had not put a label on our relationship. Which normally wouldn't be a problem for me but after almost six months, a relationship kind of needs a label. When I walk into the flat I see Sherlock sitting in front of the computer talking to John on the laptop. I can hear John protesting as the two of them talk.

"You realise this is a tiny bit humiliating."

"It's okay, I'm fine. Now show me the stream."

"I didn't mean for you."

"There's no point in me leaving the flat for anything less than a seven, we agreed. Now go back, show me the grass."

"When did we agree that?"

"We agreed yesterday. Stop! Closer."

"I wasn't even home yesterday I was in Dublin."

I laugh softly.

"You talked to me about that while in your mind palace."

Sherlock looks to me over his shoulder.

"Oh I'm sorry."

The doorbell rings and Sherlock yells at it.

"Shut up!"

As John continues through the laptop.

"Do you just carry on talking when I'm away."

"I don't know how often are you away?"

"Yes, he does."

I nod as I place my head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"What happened way out there?"

"Car backfired and killed a hiker."

"I don't think a car backfiring can kill anyone."

"Show me the car that backfired."

John pokes to a car up on the hill, turning the camera around.  
"It's there."

"That's the one that made the noise, yes?"

"Yeah, if you're thinking gunshot there wasn't one. He wasn't shot, he was killed by a single blow to the back from a blunt instrument. Which then magically disappeared, along with the killer. You've got two more minutes, they want to know more about the driver."

"Forget him, he's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?"

The boys continue to fight before Ms Hudson comes up stairs.

"Sherlock, you weren't answering your doorbell."

At that moment a few tall men in suits walk in. The man who leads the group speaks as he gets to the middle of the room.

"His room's through the back, get him some clothes."

Sherlock looks up confused.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Sorry, Mr Holmes."

I look between the two of them confused.

"Sherlock what's going on?"

"You're coming with us."

Looking over the man I can tell he is unarmed and probably works for the government. So knowing Sherlock they could be pulling him in for anything. The men grab Sherlock some clothes and drag him from the flat. Leaving me, worried and confused about what is happening. I wait for the next few hours for Sherlock and John to get back. When they finally get back I jump up and hug him tightly.

"Oh my god! What happened?"

Sherlock sighs and hugs me back, while I can tell he is reluctant to do so, clearly deep in thought.

"My brother wants me to look into this woman, a dominatrix, and see what dirty she has on the royal family. I need to get ready."

He runs off into the bedroom.

"Ready for what?"

"For war!"

I look at John confused and shake my head, I can see Sherlock outfit changes as he gets ready, I turn to John.

"Does he do this when he gets ready to see me?"

John sighs and thinks for a moment.

"Uhh… no."

"Then I am going with you. He is not spending that much time to see another woman he is not related to without me there."

I hear Sherlock shout from the bedroom.

"You aren't coming with us."

"You wanna bet."

John comes in, not enjoying our arguments, since he can't really keep up.

"Sherlock, just let her come with us, she may be able to help."

Sherlock exits the room, i almost the same thing he was dressed in before. John and I speak at the same time.

"You didn't even change."

Sherlock doesn't answer us but keeps walking, the two of us follow him out of the flat as he hails a cab. We drive for about twenty minutes before stopping outside some nice looking flats. John looks around.

"So, what's the plan?"

Sherlock shrugs, as he takes off his scarf.

""We know her address."

"So what we just ring her doorbell?"

"Exactly."

"Alright, where are we going?"

I look around to the flats, very eager to meet the woman who is has Sherlock in such a willedwind.

"Two streets away, but this will do?"

"For what?"

He turns to John.

"Punch me in the face."

"Punch you?"

"Yes, punch me, in the face. Didn't you hear me?"

I laugh softly.

"Honey, everyone hears punch me in the face when you're talking."

John nods.

"Yes, but it's usually sub-text."

Sherlock sighs.

"For god's sakes!"

He takes a swing a John, hitting him on the cheek. To which John responds by not only punching Sherlock, but also tackling him to the ground. Before long he has Sherlock in a headlock.

"Thank you, that was okay, I think we're done now. John!"

"You want to remember, Sherlock, I was a soldier. I killed people."

"You were a doctor!"

"I had bad days!"

"BOYS! Break it up, you can't solve a case fighting like this."

John lets Sherlock go and the two stand, brushing themselves off. Sherlock now as a little bit of blood on this cheek, but I can't tell if it's from him or John. The three of us make our way to the address two streets down and Sherlock puts on his acting face. Knocking on the door on the break of tears when a young lady answers.

"Hello?"

"Very sorry to disturb you, um, I've just been attacked um, um, and I think they, they took my wallet and um, my phone. Please could you help me?"

"I can phone the police if you want?"

"Thank you. Could you please? Would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come?"

The young lady over the PA opens the door and lets us in.

"Thank you, thank you so much. Thank you."

John and I glance between each other.  
"It's okay, I saw it all happen. I'm a doctor. Have you got a first aid kit?"

"In the kitchen. And who might you be?"

I shake my head and try to act a little shaken up.

"I uhh.. Was walking with him when he was attacked."

The young lady nods and gestures toward a side room.

"Please."

"Thank you."

We both smile, wryly and softly, as we walk into the room. Sitting on the couch as we wait for John and whom I can only assume to be the woman Sherlock mentioned. Before long he hear the clicking of heels on the floors and someone enters the room.

"Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your names?"

The two of us look over to the woman who had walked into the room. To my shock and surprise the woman is completely naked. My jaw drops and I turn two Sherlock, whose eyes are fixed on the woman.

"Oh it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright. Isn't it?"

She walks over and takes the clerical collar Sherlock had been wearing off.

"Well, there now. We're both defrocked."

Sherlock's face returns to its normal stone like state.

"Miss Adler, I presume."

She completely ignores that I am in the room and runs her hands across Sherlock's cheek.

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?"

She puts the clerical collar in her mouth.

I have to fight the rage building up inside of me. Luckily John comes in.

"Right, this should do it."

John looks up from the first aid kit, shocked by the sight in front of him.

"I've missed something, haven't I?"

Miss Adler pulls the collar out of her mouth and smirks at John.

"Please, sit down. Or it you'd like some tea, I can call the maid."

"I had some at the palace."

"I know."

"Clearly."

John clears his throat.  
"I had a tea too, at the Palace, if anyone's interested."

Miss Adler sits on a chair across from Sherlock.

"Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr Holmes? However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?"

"No, I think you're damaged delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself."

She leans forward, placing her elbow on her knee. Thankfully she is kind of covered up.

"And somebody loves you. If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth, too."

She glance up to John, who chuckles very uncomfortably.

"Could you put something on, please? Anything at all. A Napkin?"

I scoff.

"I second that."

"Why are you two feeling exposed?"

Sherlock stands taking off his coat.

"I don't think they know where to look."

Alder stands as well.

"No, I think they know exactly where. Not sure about you."

Sherlock hands Adler his coat. Commenting as she slides it on.  
"If i wanted to look at naked woman, i'd borrow John's laptop, or sleep with Madison."

John and I scoff again, as Adler starts talking again.

"Now, tell ne, I need to know how was it done?"

"What?"

"The hiker with the basked-in head, how was he killed?"

"That's not why I'm here."

"Oh no you're here for the photographs, but that's never gonna happen and since we're just chatting anyway."

John sits on the couch next to me.

"That story's not out. How do you know about it?"

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes."

"And you like policemen?"

"I like detective stories and detectives. Brainy is the new sexy."

"The position of the car relative to the hiker, that and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head, that's all you need to know."

"Okay, tell me, how was he murdered?"

Sherlock shakes his head and looks over to John and myself.

"Man the doors."

John and I nod, as we stand and head out of the room.


	6. The Americans

Chapter Six

The Americans

John and I head out of the room, leaving Sherlock and the Woman, this Ms Adler, in the room. Well, I did not leave willingly, John almost had to pull me from the room whispering in my head.  
"He has a plan, we need to carry out our end of it. Come on."

When the two of us get into the hallway John grabs a magazine from the small table in the hall.

"Do you have a match or a lighter?"

I pat the pockets on my jacket, pulling out a lighter that Sherlock must have slipped into my jacket, handing it to John.

"He really does plan everything out."

"Most things, yes. I can't imagine he planned being with you in the manner he is, but here you are."

I nod and take a deep breath, my head reeling with all the things that could be happening in the room between Sherlock and Adler. John lights the magazine on fire and starts waving it around.

"Hey, don't worry. Sherlock can barely handle one woman, I don't think he can handle two."

I nod and smile, still very worried. A few seconds later the fire alarm starts going on, and I can hear Sherlock from in the room.

"Okay, thank you. You two can turn it off now."

John puts out the burning magazine and looks around the hall.

"Trying!"

At that moment we hear a silenced gunshot and the fire alarm stops, we see three men dressed in all black coming down the stairs. They grab John and myself, but not before I notice the headpiece in their ears and that they don't have much on them other then the guns in their hands. They must have been listening to the conversation with Ms Adler.

"What is with men and threes?"

I look over at John as we are forced into back into the room. I am happy to see that Ms Adler still has Sherlock's coat on. The men then begin to speak, one pointing a Gun on Adler, the other one John and myself as the leader addresses Sherlock.

"Miss Adler, on the floor!"

"Don't you want me on the floor, too?"

"No sir, I want you to open the safe, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock and I look the man up and down, commenting at the same time.

"Americans, interesting."

Sherlock stops and look down to me. I am on the floor between John and Adler.

"Why would you care about whatever it is that Ms Adler has?"

"Sir, the safe, now, please."

"I don't know the code."

"We've been listening, she said she told you. So I can only assume that you or your lovely counterpart here knows the code."

"If you've been listening, you'll know she didn't tell us anything."

"I assume I missed something. From you reputation, I assume you didn't Mr Holmes. Nor did you Miss Love."

"She's the one who knows the code, ask her!"

"Yes sir, she also knows the code that calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm."

Adler sighs.

"Mr Holmes doesn't…"

"Shut Up! One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be hardship."

The leader sighs.

"Mr archer, at the count of three, shoot either Dr Watson or Miss Love. Take your pick, either will do."

John and i look to each other and then up at the man.

"What?"

He begins to count as Sherlock protests.

"One."

"I don't know the code."

"Two."

"She didn't tell me, I don't know it!"

"I'm prepared to believe you, any second now."

"Three!"

"No, stop!"

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. Open it, please."

Sherlock turns to the fireplace, above which is the safe. As he punches in the code I try to think of what the code could be. When I realize what it was look over at Adler, giving her an acknowledgment of the brillants behind her code. Her measurements. She smirks over at me and nods, before we hear Sherlock speak very clearly.

"Vatican Cameos!"

This had been a code word used between the boys used to declare danger was afoot. Since John had been in the military the two uses an old military saying, literally telling soldiers to duck and cover, but in world war II.

When Sherlock speaks these words John, wraps an arm around me and swiftly moves me to the floor underneath him. When everything has calmed back down, the man behind John and I has been shot, Sherlock had taken down the man next to him, and Adler had a gun on the man behind her. Sherlock clearly wanted to keep things moving.  
"Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Adler hits the man in the face with the gun, knocking him to the ground. As John and I stand he looks over at the man who had been behind us.

"He's dead."

Adler steps toward Sherlock and smiles.

"Thank you. You were very observant."

John looks at the three of us confused.

"Observant?"

"I'm flattered."

Sherlock and I comment at the same time.

"Don't be."

"Flattered?"

John is still very confused, as Sherlock looks at the phone he's taken out of the safe, before heading of the flat, as John and I follow.

"There'll be more of them, they'll be keeping an eye on the building. We should call the police."

I nod, walking up behind Sherlock and taking the gun out of his hand, firing it into the air.

"Yes, they are on their way,"

I hand the gun back to Sherlock and march back into the house, very unhappy, not only about the situation with Ms Adler, but that I was just shown to be almost completely useless. John shots as I walk past him.

"For God's sake!"

Sherlock follows close behind me back into the flat.

"Shut up, it's quick. Madison, John, check the rest of the house, see how they got in."

John and I nod, heading to check the house, separating. When I get to a rather large bedroom I see the young lady who let us in, Kate, on the floor.

"John! Sherlock!"

I run up beside her body and check for a pulse. John is the first to get into the room, followed shortly after by Sherlock and Ms Adler. John looks at me shocked.

"It's all right, she's just out cold."

Ms Adler comes into the room, very calm and collected.

"God knows she's used to that. There's a back door, Dr Watson, better check it. Take Ms Love just in case there are more of them."

The two of us nod and run down the stairs, before hearing something hit the floor above us. When the two of us get to the room again Sherlock is laying on the floor of the room, limp. I run up to him and support his head, as John stands next to me.

"Sherlock!"

John and I look up to see Ms Adler in the window of the bathroom.

"Jesus, what are you doing?"

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit, it makes for a very unattractive corpse."

I brush Sherlock's bangs out of his face as he fights off drifting off and John continues yelling at Adler.

"What's this? What have you given him?"

"He'll be fine. I've used it on loads of my friends. You know, i was wrong about him. He did know where to look."

"For what? What are you talking about?"

"The key code to my safe."

"What was it?"

"Should I tell him, or would you like to Ms Love?"

She looks between Sherlock and myself as I glare at her.

"My measurements."

She leans back and falls out of the window, holding on to an extremely long silk curtain. I lean down and kiss Sherlock's forehead as he drifts off.


	7. The Text Messages

Chapter Seven.

The Text Messages

The next morning I go up to check up on Sherlock to see how he is doing and notice a very tall, middle aged man standing in the middle of the sitting room. I walk over to Sherlock, who sees me out of the corner of his eyes and turns toward me, slightly.

"Good morning, Madison. I assume you are here to make sure I am alright."

"Of course, isn't that what normal people do?"

I smile softly, keeping my focus on the man, but it doesn't take me long to realize who he is.

"Oh is this your brother?"

Sherlock nods,

"Yes, this is Mycroft. Mycroft, this is Madison Love."

I smile to Mycroft, shaking the hand he extends toward me.

"I have to say Ms Love you look very familiar."

I chuckle.

"Well, if you've been spying on your brother, as i imagine you are in the habit of doing, that may be why."

John chuckles.

"She's kind of Sherlock's girlfriend."

Sherlock and I almost spit out the tea we had both only just started to sip. Looking at John a little surprised.

"What?"

He questions before Sherlock shakes his head.

"Anyway the photographs are perfectly safe."

Mycroft looks toward his little brother very unconvinced.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker."

I sit on the couch behind Sherlock.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants protection."

Sherlock nods and continues my thought.

"For some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?"

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied."

I laugh softly,

"Very appropriate choice of words."

Sherlock looks up from his paper, finally.

"You see how this works? The camera-phone is her get out of jail free card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty Mycroft."

John looks up to mycroft, from his breakfast.

"Though not the way she treats royalty."

John and I share a laugh as his joke, before we hear a female moan. John looks toward the direction of the noise.

"What was that?"

Sherlock covers his phone.

"Text."

John looks over at me and I put my hands up.

"Why would I text him, I'm four feet away from him. If I wanted his attention I'd throw a throw pillow at him."

John looks to Sherlock.

"Then who has that ringtone if not for Madison?"

Sherlock does his best to get off the subject, looking up to Mycroft again.

"Did you know there were other people after her too before you sent the three of us in there?"

I nod,

"Yes, CIA trained killers, thanks for that."

Ms Hudson comes out of the kitchen with two plates sitting on in front of Sherlock and handing me the other.

"Thank you Ms. Hudson."

"You're welcome dear. But it's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

"Oh Shut up Ms Hudson."

John, Sherlock and I all scold Mycroft at the same time.

"MYCROFT!"

Mycroft straights up and takes a deep breath.

"Apologizes."

"Thank you."

Sherlock glances over his shoulder to her.

"Though do in fact shut up."

Ms Hudson shakes her head sits in one of the boy's chairs, as we hear the moan again.

"It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath.

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do, as far as I can see."

"I can put maximum surveillance on her."

"Why bother? You can follow her on twitter. I believe her user name is TheWhipHand."

Mycroft takes out his phone and heads out of the room.

"Excuse me."

John looks up to Sherlock.

"Why does your phone make that noise?"

"What noise?"

His phone moans again.

"That noise, that one it just made."

"Its a text alert, it means i've got a text."

I sigh and stand.

"He knows what it means, he wants to know who sent it if not me."

"Well, somebody got hold of the phone and apparently as a joke, personalized their text alert noise."

The phone goes off again and I roll my eyes.

"I am going to go. Thank you for breakfast Ms Hudson."

Sherlock looks at me a little confused as I head to the door.

"Why?"

The phone goes off again.

"That's why."


	8. Christmas Night

Chapter Eight

Christmas Night

It had been a few months since I've met Mycroft Holmes and had stormed out of Sherlock's flat after hearing the ringtone that could only be for Ms Adler, whom Sherlock only seems to refer to as the Woman. Which is perfectly fine with me, because judging by the amount of texts Sherlock had received from her, she is very interested in him. But I have managed to get over all of that in time for Christmas. Mostly because I realized not only was Sherlock not seeing her, he was also not responding to her texts. If he was he had found a very good way to keep it from me, but then again, we haven't decide what this is yet anyway.

Tonight however, I would be able to spend Christmas with people who weren't psycho killers for the first time in my life. John had his newest girlfriend, I think her name was Jeanette, but I've only met her once. When I walk into the flat I am a little late and Sherlock had already started playing the one song he had promised Ms Hudson and I, and I wish I could have gotten up here earlier to hear all of it. Once in the flat I look over into the kitchen doorway and see Detective Inspector Lestrade, while Ms Hudson is in Sherlock's chair, with Jeanette is in John's while he is sitting on the arm of the couch, and Sherlock is standing in front of the window, playing a beautiful song. A few moments later the song ends and Sherlock turns around.

Mrs Hudson claps her hands.

"That was lovely Sherlock, Marvellous. I wish you could have worn the antlers."

"Somethings are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson."

I smile as Sherlock's eyes drift to me, after he sits his violin down.

"Oh Madison, nice to see that you could join us this evening, I was under the impression you were still streamed with me."

I take a deep breath.

"I am, but that doesn't mean I don't want to spend Christmas with you and John."

John sighs as he and Jeanette stands.

"Why can't you two show a little emotion? I know you two are sociopath's but still,feel something."

At this moment Jeanette offers Sherlock and myself a glass of champagne.

"Thank you."

I smile and accept the glass, but Sherlock denies it.

"No thank you, Sarah."

John jumps up and stands next to Jeanette.

"No, no, he's not good with names."

I laugh softly and step next to Sherlock, turning toward Jeanette.

"Sherlock, don't joke with Jeanette like that. It could be considered very mean."

Jeanette nods, clearly knowing that I am covering for Sherlock, but I can tell she appreciates it, nonetheless. As she and John go back to sit on John's chair, Molly Hooper walks into the flat. I had met Molly when I had gone to see Sherlock at Bart's Hospital and from what Sherlock had told me she had dated Jim, when he was trying to get close to Sherlock.

"Hello, everyone. It said on the door to come up."

We all smile and greet Molly, except for Sherlock he is complaining under his breath. When Molly takes off her very heavy winter coat she is in a very nice, very tight dress. John of course being the one to vocalize everyone's shock.

"Holy Mary!"

Molly smiles, adjusting her bracelet.

"So we're having Christmas drinkies then?"

Sherlock nods and almost grumbles as he walks up side me, placing a hand on my hip, as I sip my drink.

"No stopping them, apparently."

I turn to Sherlock and whisper,

"It's Christmas, I know you don't believe in it and I don't either, but they do. It's a special day for them so be nice."

Sherlock nods and heads back to the computer on the table which is only about a foot or so behind us.

"John The counter on your blog still says 1895."

John jokes.

"Oh christmas is cancelled."

"And you've got a photograph of me wearing that hat!"

"People like the hat, dearling."

I call out over my shoulder.

I hear Molly makes small talk with everyone, before Sherlock cuts in.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly. You're serious about him."

Molly looks at Sherlock surprised and a little frightened.

"Sorry, what?"

"You're seeing him tonight, giving him a gift."

John and I roll our eyes.

"Take a day off."

"Shut up."

"Surely you see the perfectly wrapped present in the bag. The others are slapdash at best. It's for someone special. The shade of red echoes her lipstick an unconscious association, or one she is…"

I cut Sherlock off as he picks up the gift, so tired of him not thinking about anyone else.

"It's for you! A blind bat could see that!"

Molly looks down embarrassed, I don't know if would have rather Sherlock gone on or have had my little outburst. But Sherlock looks to me surprised, before Molly starts speaking softly, trying to hold back tears.

"You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always Always."

I look down, ashamed of my outburst, before hearing Sherlock.  
"I am sorry, Forgive me. Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper."

Everyone looks up at Sherlock shocked by what he just heard, as he leans in and kisses Molly's cheek, shortly after his phone goes off with the female's moan and Molly turns bright red.

"NO! That wasn't', I didn't."

Sherlock pulls away pull his phone out of his pocket.

"No, it was me."

Lestrade almost falls over, being so thrown off.

"What? Really?"

"It was my phone."

John sighs.

"Fifty seven?"

"I'm sorry."

"Fifty seven of those texts, the ones I've heard."

"Thrilling that you've been counting."

"Someone has to Sherlock."

Sherlock looks down at his phone takes the gift and heads off into his bedroom. John goes back to check on his while everyone gets ready to leave and I try to apologize to Molly.

"Molly, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I am just tired of him only thinking of himself."

She nods and looks down, before looking up to me.  
"It's alright, I know you didn't mean it to be mean. Honestly It was probably nicer then what Sherlock was going to say. I need to get ready for my shift at the hospital away."

I smile awkwardly and wryly before Molly turns and leaves. The only ones left in the flat are John, Mrs Hudson, Jeanette and myself. Sherlock leaves very quickly after getting to his room. As soon as Sherlock leaves John gets a phone call.

"Yeah, I understand, we'll start looking. That was Mycroft, we need to make sure that Sherlock doesn't have any drugs in here."

Mrs Hudson, John, and I begin searching the flat for anything Sherlock could have hidden. We look for about an hour before John gets another phone call.

"No. Did he take the cigarette. Shit!"

John looks to Mrs Hudson and I.

"He's coming, ten minutes."

Mrs Hudson shrugs.

"There's nothing in the bedroom."

"Looks like he's clean, we've tired all the usual places. Are you sure tonight's a danger night? I've got plans. Mycroft?"

John sighs and sits next to Jeanette, who is on the couch.

"I'm really sorry."

"You know my friends are so wrong about you. You're a great boyfriend."

"Okay, that's good? I always thought I was great."

"Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man."

"Jeanette, please."

"No I mean it, it's heart-warming. You'll do anything for him. He can't even tell your girlfriends apart!"

Jeanette gets up and ready to leave, as John tries to stop her.  
"I'll do anything for you, just tell me what it is I'm not doing."

"Don't make me compete with Sherlock Holmes."

"I'll walk your dog. There, I said it, i'll even walk your dog."

"I don't have a dog!"

"No, because that was the last one. Okay."

"Jesus!"

Jeanette storms out.

"I'll call you?"

"NO!"

I cringe as John looks to me.

"I'm sorry John."

John shakes his head as we wait for Sherlock to get home. It only takes about five minutes for him to get back to the flat. When he does he looks around and sighs.

"I hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time!"

John jumps up.

"Why are you so concerned about your bloody sock index, when your relationship with the perfect woman for you is falling apart."

"John, my relationship with Madison is not falling apart."

"Yes it is Sherlock! Because you've been spending so much time trying to find Irene Adler you have neglecting her."

"I am not neglecting her."

"Yes you are Sherlock! You are so tied up with I have not got to spend time with two of my friends in the same room since Mycroft came here and Irene started texting you."

"Madison, do you have a say in this?"

John and Sherlock both turn to me.

"Yes, I have a problem with the amount of texts you are getting from the Woman. You are spending so much time trying to find her, I don't see you at all. And it isn't just because it's a case, I've seen you work on a case before and this one is different."

John turns to Sherlock who nods and bites his lip.

"Then I am sorry, but I do not know what this is, nor do I know what you want it to be. I am not exactly well versed in romance."

John sighs loudly and angrily.

"For the love of God, everyone can see you two love each other and are meant to be together so make up already!"

John storms out of the room, leaving Sherlock and myself alone.

"Well, that was."

"I know."

"Look, Sherlock. I understand if you don't want to be in a relationship with your number one enemy's sister, but I love you."

Sherlock nods and crosses the room to me, not saying anything. Instead when he gets to me, he cups my cheeks in his hands, kissing me softly, before whispering,

"I love you Janessa Madison Moriarty."

I smile softly and giggle, as tears roll down my cheeks.

"What why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?"

I just my head.

"No, it's just that I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

The two of us laugh as Sherlock places his forehead against mine.


	9. The Trails of the New Year

Chapter Nine

The Trails of the New Year

It had been a about a week since Christmas and was New Year's day. Sherlock had spent most of his time composing mournful music, not eating, just playing and composing. I hear the tune as I ascend the stairs to the the boys flat. When I get to the top of the stairs I am pulled into the flat by John and Ms Hudson, through the side door. John sighs as he looks between Ms Hudson and I.

"Has he ever had a relationship before Madison? A boyfriend, girlfriend, a relationship ever?"

Ms Hudson andI shrug.

"I don't know."

John sighs again.

"How can we not know?"

"He's Sherlock, how will we ever know what does on in the funny head of his."

"He's trying to work through something he hasn't had to before. While I did not like her, Adler was someone who could challenge Sherlock and an intellectual level, even more than I can."

John nods.

"See if you can help him figure out the password to that phone of Irene's."

I nod as John turns, heading out of the flat, leaving Mrs Hudson and I to listen to Sherlock playing his mournful tune. Shortly after John leaves Sherlock stops playing, looking out the window, no doubt seeing John. Soon after he goes back to his room, getting changed and heading out as well. I know it is best to give him his space right now and let him work through his emotions on his own.

Mrs Hudson goes back down stairs to clean up her flat and I begin to look over the music Sherlock has written, humming the melody I had heard earlier. The peace I had found this afternoon was broken when I hear Mrs Hudson let out a cry for help.

"Sherlock!"

I can hear the sounds of multiple sets of feet coming up the stairs, along with a struggle. I take the few seconds between hearing Mrs Hudson's cries for help and the time she and three men enter the main room of Sherlock and John's flat to hide. I am able to hide in the kitchen behind the door to the kitchen from the hall. I begin thinking of all the ways that I can get Mrs Hudson and myself out alive. As the different situations run through my head I can hear the men talking and to my surprised I recognizing their voices. The Americans.

"Check the flat, I'm sure that tasty little girlfriend of his is here somewhere."

I hear the men make their way through flat and wait until one stops in front of the door. Once he stops I jump out from behind the door, kicking him in the back and into the table in front of us. Before jumping on his back and slamming his head into the table, breaking his nose. Before I can do anything else I hear the leader of the group clear his throat.

"That's enough Ms. Love."

There isn't a doubt in my mind that he has a gun on me and I stand, turning to face him slowly. When I am turned around the man I had attacked knocks me onto the ground, before dragging me beside Mrs. Hudson, who has been hit on the right cheek, by the leader of the group. I glare up at him and notice that much like before they are only armed with the guns. Once I remember what they were after at Adler's flat I look around and see if I can find the phone, but it is nowhere in sight. I can only hope that Sherlock either took it or hide it.

"Now, we sit and wait for your clever boyfriend to get back and give us what we want."

"And what is that?"

"The photos of course."

I nod and glance around the room one more, looking for somewhere Sherlock could have hidden the phone. It doesn't take more than 30 minutes for Sherlock to get back to the flat and walk into the room, glancing around and working through what he needs to do in his head. I can see his eyes moving around the room rapidly, as the leader of the ground moves a gun to the back of Mrs Hudson's head and the man behind me does the same to me. Mrs Hudson begins to cry out of fear, calling to Sherlock softly as he walks in.

"Oh Sherlock… Sherlock."

"Don't snivel, Mrs Hudson. It will do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet. What a tender world that would be."

Sherlock glances over to me and then to the man behind me, whose nose is swollen from me breaking it. Sherlock smirks down at me for a moment before turning his attention back to the leader.

"I believe you have something we want, Mr Holmes."

"Then why don't you ask for it?"

Sherlock walks up to Mrs Hudson, who is still snivelling, looking her over and making sure she is not injured, before glaring back to the man.

"Oh, i've been asking there two, one doesn't seem to know anything and the other won't talk. But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr Holmes?"

"I believe I do."

Sherlock stands and takes a few steps back.

"First get rid of your boys?"

"Why?"

"I dislike being outnumbered, it makes for too much stupid in the room."

I smirk and glance down, trying not to laugh.

"You two go to the car."

"No, they get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me, you know who I am, it doesn't work."

The two men walk out of the room, I look up to Sherlock for a cue of what to do, he shakes his head slightly, as if to say stay there.

"Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me."

"So you can point one at me, or so your little girlfriend can attack me?"

"I'm unarmed and she isn't going to do anything."

"Mind if I check that you're unarmed?"

"Oh, I insist."

The man steps toward Sherlock before looking at me.

"If you move, I will shot your beloved detective in the head and make you wish you were dead."

The man stops in front of Sherlock, looking in Sherlock's coat and walks behind him. Once the man is behind Sherlock, Sherlock pulls out a can of aerosol, spraying the man in the face, before head butting him, knocking him to the floor.

"Moron."

Once the man is on the floor, I stand and check Mrs. Hudson, as Sherlock processed to tie up and man and place him in the chair Mrs Hudson was in as I move her to the couch. Sherlock hands me the gun, before taking off his coat and scarf, before taking it back and pointing it at the man and sitting moving one of the kitchen chairs beside the couch as I sit beside Mrs Hudson looking her over. Sherlock quickly makes a phone call as John comes running in.

"What's going on? Jesus, What the hell is happening?"

"Mrs Hudson and Madison have been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe."

John looks over to Mrs Hudson and myself on the couch. I am holding Mrs Hudson doing my best to comfort her, as John cross to us.

"Oh Mrs Hudson, Madison, my god, are you alright? Jesus, what have they done to you?"

Mrs Hudson shakes her head, covering her face with her hands.

"Oh, I'm just being so silly."

John and I shake our heads.

"No you're not."

"It's alright."

Sherlock stands and crosses to the middle of the room.

"Downstairs, take them downstairs and look after her."

The three of us stand and walk toward the door, as John takes Mrs Hudson under his arm.

"It's all right now. I'll have a look at that."

John steps toward Sherlock.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I expect so, now go."

I exit the room with Mrs, Hudson, John following close behind us, but i can still hear Sherlock on the phone.

"Lestrade? We've had a break-in at Baker Street. Oh no no, we're all fine, it's the burglar. He's gotten himself rather badly injured. Oh a few broken ribs, fractured skull, suspected punctured lung. He fell out a window."

John, Mrs Hudson, and I make our way down to the kitchen in Mrs Hudson's flat. John begins to clean her up.

"Are you sure you're okay Madison."

I look up at him and nod.

"Of course."

John looks at me and points to my shoulder.

"You have blood on your blouse."

Mrs Hudson chuckles.

"Madison, attacked one of the men before they got to her."

John looks at me surprised before Mrs Hudson winces.

"Oh it stings."

At that moment hear something, very heavy, land on the bins outside the window. We all glance outside.

"Oh, that was right on my bins."

Shortly after Lestrade and the police are there, taking the man away in an ambulance and Sherlock enters through Mrs Hudson's side door, wiping his feet. John and Mrs Hudson are at the table and I'm leaning against the counter. Once Sherlock is in John glances up at him.

"They're be sleeping upstairs in our flat tonight, we need to look after them."

"No. They're fine"

Sherlock turns to the fridges and opens it, before he digs around for stuff.

"No, they're not fine, look at them. At least Mrs Hudson needs to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders."

"Don't be absurd."

"They're both in shock and all over some bloody stupid camera-phone. Where is it, anyway?"

"Safest place I know."

Sherlock glances down to Mrs Hudson, who takes the phone out of her shirt.

"You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot! I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry."

Sherlock slides the phone into his pocket.

"Thank you. Shame on you, John Watson."

"Shame on me?"

"Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street? England would fall."

Mrs Hudson and I chuckle softly.

"Besides Madison is not shaken up, she has a stronger nerve then I do."

"How do you figure?"

I chuckle softly.

"He would have killed the man he attack, I didn't."

Sherlock nods and smiles softly. Before long after making sure Mrs Hudson is really alright, John, Sherlock, and I head back up to their flat. While Mrs Hudson got to choose if she stayed in her flat, I did not. Sherlock, of all people, insisted that I stay with them that night. Sherlock takes off his coat and places it on the back of a chair at the desk, as John questions.

"Where is it now?"

"Where no one will look."

Sherlock picks up his violin and beings to look it over and tuning it.

"Whatever's on that phone is more than just pictures."

"Yes, it is."

"So, she's alive, then. How are we feeling about that?"

I look up at John surprised.

"I'm sorry who is what?"

"Irene Adler, is alive."

I nod and take a deep breath. I mean I am happy she is alive, but not happy she was moved her way back into Sherlock's life. As I exhale the clock tolls midnight. Sherlock takes a deep breath.

"Happy New Year, John, Madison."

"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?"

I look from John to Sherlock, waiting for his response.

"No, I don't think I will."

Sherlock picks up his bow and begins to play, as John and I sit in the chairs and listen to the lovely tune.


	10. The Woman

**Chapter Ten**

 **The Woman**

 **Sherlock and I had gone out for lunch after he took care of some business at Bart's Hospital, trying to see if he can get into Adler's phone. Once we step into the hall of the second floor Sherlock and I both smell something new and a little odd. I think I recognize the smell, but can't place it. Sherlock glances over at me.**

 **"Did you change your perfume?"**

 **"Darling, if I did you'd notice it well before now."**

 **Sherlock nods as the two of us try to pinpoint the source of the smell. Noticing the window in the kitchen is open a bit, as are both drawn to the back of the flat by the smell. I hear John come up the stairs as we slowly make our way to the back of the flat. Sherlock puts a hand up me as we approach the bedroom before he slowly enters the room. As he glances over to the bed I see his expression soften a bit, it is at this moment I realize how I know that smell. Irene Adler. I roll my eyes as Sherlock calls to John.**

 **"We have a case."**

 **John makes his way down the hallway and past me, as I head to other direction, wanting to stay as far away from her as possible.**

 **"What, in your bedroom? Oh..."**

 **It isn't long after the boys discover Ms. Adler in Sherlock's room before the three of them make their way back to the sitting area where I have found a spot on the couch and grabbed a book to try to keep my mind busy. I glance up to Sherlock, I'm sure even he can see the anger in my eyes, he shakes his head, looking back at me with tender eyes as if to indicate that nothing had happened. But then I guess it would be impossible since I had spent the previous night with Sherlock and other than the few hours he was at Bart's we'd been together all day.**

 **The three of them also settle into the main room, Irene in Sherlock's chair, John in front of his laptop at the table to her right, and Sherlock sat almost right in front of me. I can only imagine it is so that Irene can't see the daggers I occasionally throw her way, in glances and so that he can stop me if I go after her for making some tactless comment.**

 **Sherlock breaks the heavy silence in the room.**

 **"So who is after you?"**

 **Irene sighs.**

 **"People who want to kill me."**

 **I whisper to myself.**

 **"That's a very long list."**

 **Sherlock glances over his shoulder to me, before looking back to Irene.**

 **"Who is that?"**

 **"Killers."**

 **Irene grins as she turns to Sherlock.**

 **"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific."**

 **John glances over to Irene.**

 **Sherlock sighs.**

 **"So you faked your own death to get ahead of them?"**

 **"It worked for a while."**

 **"Except you let John know you're alive, therefore me."**

 **"I knew you'd my secret."**

 **"You couldn't"**

 **"But you did, didn't you? Even from your little toy."**

 **I scoff.**

 **"No, I knew. I just don't care."**

 **Irene smirks over Sherlock's shoulder to me, before glancing around the room.**

 **"Where's my camera-phone?"**

 **"It's not here. We're not stupid."**

 **John sits his coffee cup down.**

 **"Then what have you done with it?"**

 **"If they're guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you."**

 **"Then they'll know I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago."**

 **"I need it."**

 **John glances between the two of them.**

 **"Well, we can't just go and get it, can we? Molly Hooper, she could collect it, take it to Barts. Then someone in your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the cafe, one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back."**

 **I stand as Sherlock turns his head to John.**

 **"Very good, John, excellent plan, full of intelligent precautions."**

 **"Thank you. So why don't I phone..."**

 **Sherlock stands when I get beside him, handing him the phone he had given me a few days ago, John stops in his tracks when he sees it.**

 **"So what do you keep on here? In general, I mean?"**

 **Irene stands and steps toward Sherlock.**

 **"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."**

 **I sigh.**

 **"For blackmail?"**

 **"For protection. I make my way in the world, I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."**

 **Sherlock sits back down.**

 **"So how do you acquire this information?"**

 **"I told you I misbehave."**

 **I place a hand on Sherlock's shoulder.**

 **"But you've acquired something more danger than protection."**

 **Sherlock glances over at my hand then moves his attention back to Irene.**

 **"Do you know what it is?"**

 **"Yes, but I don't understand it."**

 **"I assumed. Show me."**

 **Irene holds her hand out, asking for the phone. But Sherlock just holds it up into the air.**

 **"The passcode."**

 **The two stare each other down for a moment or two, before Sherlock moves forward in the chair, handing her the phone. Irene grins at Sherlock before punching in a code.**

 **"It's not working."**

 **Sherlock stands and takes the phone from her.**

 **"No, because it's a duplicate I had made, into which you just entered the numbers 1058. I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that, but thanks anyway."**

 **Sherlock types the numbers into the real phone he pulls out of his slacks pocket, but it doesn't allow him in.**

 **"I told you that camera-phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand."**

 **"You're rather good."**

 **"You're not so bad."**

 **The two stare at each other as Sherlock gives Irene the phone. After a few moments, John calls out to me.**

 **"Madison, do you wanna go on a date with me. Seems like these two will be looking for baby names soon. Hamish, by the way, John Hamish Watson, if you wanna use that."**

 **I shake my head and try to hold back tears, taking a few deep breaths. Irene clicks away at the phone, pulling up a file after the two of them look at John confused.**

 **"There was a man, a MOD official and I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know but I photographed it, he was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen, can you read it?"**

 **Irene hands the phone back to Sherlock, who has moved the chair he was in back to the table, opposite of John, sitting as he looks over the phone.**

 **"Yes"**

 **"Code, obviously. I had one of the country's best cryptographers take a look, though he was mostly upside down, as I recall, couldn't figure it out. What can you do, Mr. Holmes? Go on, impress a girl."**

 **Irene leans in, kissing Sherlock's cheek before he starts explaining what it means. I would be at her throat if I wasn't trying to keep up with Sherlock's quick speech pattern.**

 **"There's a margin for error, but I'm pretty sure there's a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30 to Baltimore. Apparently, it's going to save the world, I'm not sure how, but give me a moment, I've only been on the case for eight seconds."**

 **The three of us look at Sherlock confused. He rolls his eyes and sighs.**

 **"Come on, it's not code, these are seats on a jet. Look, no 'I' because it can be mistaken for one., No letters past K the width of the plane is the limit. The number always appear not in sequence, but the letters have little runs of sequence, families, and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo's wide enough for a letter K or rows past 55, which is why there's always an upstairs. Row 13 eliminates superstitious airlines, The style of the flight number, 007, eliminates a few ores. Assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical, because of the original source and assuming the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the 6:30 to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow. Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was amazing, John's expressed that in every possible variant available to the English language."**

 **Sherlock stands as he finishes up his deductions and hands Irene the phone, once more.**

 **"I would have you right here, on this desk, until you begged for mercy twice."**

 **Sherlock and Irene stay locked in on each other.**

 **"John, can you check those flight schedules to see if I'm right?"**

 **John looks at the two shocked.**

 **"I'm on it, yeah."**

 **"I've never begged for mercy in my life."**

 **"Twice."**

 **I sigh and shake my head, about to yell at the two of them, but John speaks up before I can.**

 **"Yeah, you're right, flight double O seven."**

 **"What did you say?"**

 **"You're right."**

 **"No, what did you say after that?" Flight 007.007 007, 007 What?"**

 **Sherlock and I look up at each other, having heard Mycroft whisper something about Bond Air as I stormed out of the flat those months ago. Sherlock dives deep into his mind palace, grabbing his violin and plucking the strings on it. John and I leave the flat about an hour later, John trying his best just to get me away from Irene. We find ourselves walking through the park and talking.**

 **"I don't know why Sherlock is so obsessed with that woman."**

 **John sighs.**

 **"I don't know either. But I do know that he loves you, very much. Madison, I've known Sherlock for almost 4 years now, and I have never seen him more enthralled with anything, then he is with you. This is just how he gets with difficult cases and he can't really ask you or me for help since it involves another woman."**

 **I take a deep breath as John continues.**

 **"I'm not saying it's your fault, or mine, it's all him, because he thinks he's so clever, but trust me, Irene is the one putting all of the efforts into that and she's getting nothing out of it, nor will she ever. Sherlock may be able to act like she's getting somewhere with him, but she isn't. I don't know how many times we've been talking about this case and his mind goes to you."**

 **I smile and look over to John.**

 **"Really?"**

 **"Really."**

 **The two of us enjoy the decent early spring weather and a nice dinner of Fish and Chips, before heading back to the flat. When we get there Sherlock and Irene are gone. I take a deep breath as John rubs my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me, try his best to comfort me.**

 **"Don't worry, he'll be back. Your the best thing that's ever happened to him. He has to come back."**

 **I laugh softly, as John continues.**

 **"No, I'm serious. I'm counting on you to teach him how to turn his deduction skills on and off like you can. It'd be nice he could at least act normal like you can."**

 **I scoff**

 **"Thanks..."**

 **"That's not what I meant."**

 **"I know."**

 **A few months pass and the case is finally closed. I am all too happy to hear about the witness protection having Irene. Sherlock and I have tried our best to put this case and all the problems it brought with it, behind us. But only time will tell if we will be able to truly let go of what happened.**


	11. Henry Knight

Chapter Eleven

Henry Knight

Business had been rather slow since Sherlock had solved the case involving Irene Adler, a case that John had titled The Woman when he had written it for his blog. I suppose that is rather fitting since it is all the three of us say when we refer to Irene Adler, which is very rare. Sherlock and have since recovered though that has revealed some jealousy on my side, which still baffles Sherlock.

Since it had been very slow since then Sherlock had been doing anything and everything he could to fill his time. Taking on any case he could find and has been hyperactive, rude, arrogant, and a pain for John and I. But then again, that's just how he is normally. It doesn't help that he had been trying to give up smoking as well, once again, since he had started again after thinking that The Woman was dead. Promising John and I that he would quit cold turkey, this just made him itch for a case all the more.

One morning I had gone up to visit John and Sherlock, having just gotten back from a week-long visit to my parents. One that John was all too happy to point out was planned during Sherlock's peak anger and hyperactivity, in his emails keeping me updated on how Sherlock was doing while I was away. When I get there I look around the main area of the flat, expecting to hear Sherlock shouting or doing some experiment in the kitchen.

"Well, he seems to have calmed down since I left."

John doesn't turn from his laptop as he is searching for a case that will hold Sherlock's attention for more than just a few hours or days.

"He is not here. That's why it's so quiet."

He turns to me for a moment.

"Welcome back though."

I chuckle and sit in Sherlock's armchair, grabbing a book off the table.

"Thanks. Has he been too bad?"

John shakes his head, his attention still on the computer.

"No, he's just been more of himself."

I chuckle softly.

"Ah.. so Sherlock without what little filter he has."

John nods and chuckles.

"Yeah, that's about right."

The two of us continue chatting about Sherlock and my trip for a little while until we hear Sherlock coming up the stairs. Since the two of us had been either reading or trying to find a new case, we don't look over to Sherlock until we hear him slam something into the floor. Turning to see him holding a harpoon and covered in blood. Hearing Sherlock complain.

"Well, that was tedious."

"Oh dear God."

"You went on the Tube like that?!"

Sherlock glance over at us.

"None of the cabs would take me."

Without another comment, he leaves the room. Hopefully to change and shower, before he closes his door I hear him call out.

"Welcome home Madison."

John and I look at each other confused, almost as if to make we both saw the same thing. We wait for about twenty minutes until Sherlock comes back out, dressed in normal button up and slacks, but barefoot, with his blue dressing gown on. He paces from the window to the door, messing with the now clean harpoon he had earlier, as John and I flip through a couple of papers.

"Nothing?"

John sighs.

"Military coup in Uganda."

"Hmm."

I flip the paper of my paper.

"Oh, um, Cabinet reshuffle."

Sherlock becomes frustrated and almost furious.

"Nothing of importance?"

He slams the end of the harpoon onto the ground, roaring with rage.

"Oh, God!"

He looks over to John intensely.

"John, I need some. Get me some."

John shakes his head, keeping his focus on the paper.

"No. Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what."

Sherlock leans the harpoon against the table, clearly irritated, as I turn to him.

"You've paid everyone off, remember? No one within a two-mile radius will sell you any. Or either of us for that matter."

"Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?"

John and I glance at each other, holding back laughter. As John clears his throat to tell Sherlock it was his, but before he can Sherlock shouts toward the door, while he hurling the paperwork off the table, searching for anything he can find.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

John sighs,

"Sherlock, you're doing really well. Don't give up now."

Sherlock keeping throwing papers into the air, still frantically searching.

"Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me."

John and I remain silent, as Sherlock straightens up, turning on his most appealing puppy-dog eyes on the two of us.

"Please."

John shakes his head.

"Sorry can't help."

I chuckle softly.

"Darling, has that ever worked, other than when I use it on you?"

Sherlock tilts his head.

"When have you ever used that on me?"

"Uh... never..."

John chuckles softly, knowing that I use that on Sherlock at least twice a case to get him to eat something or rest.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers."

John shakes his head, still laughing softly.

"Oh, it was worth a try."

He continues his search around the room. I glance over to John.

"Still want me to continue teaching him how to act normal?"

John glances at me and nods.

"Yeah, I almost saw a bit of emotion in his eyes there for a moment."

The two of us laugh before Sherlock hurls himself onto the floor in front of the fireplace. Unearthing a Persian slipper form the pile of papers in front of the unlit fire. Scrabbling about inside it as Mrs. Hudson comes into the flat.

"My Secret supply. What have you done with my secret supply."

Mrs. Hudson is obviously rather confused by the sight she is greeted with.

"Eh?"

"Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?"

"You know you never let me touch your things!"

Mrs. Hudson looks around the room, which has been destroyed by Sherlock.

"Oh, chance would be a fine thing."

"I thought you weren't my housekeeper."

"I'm not."

She glances down to John, who gestures for her to offer him a drink.

"How about a nice cuppa, and perhaps you could put away your harpoon."

"I need something _stronger_ than tea. Seven percent stronger."

Sherlock glares out the window, his harpoon back in hand. When he turns back to Mrs. Hudson he points the harpoon at her, causing her to jump when he does.

"You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee again."

"Pardon?"

"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking."

John and I moan, annoyed, trying to get him to shut up

"Sherlock.."

"Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch card again. We all know where _that_ leads, don't we?"

He sniffs the air, finally lifting the Harpoon again.

"Mm. Kasbah Nights. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website, you should look it up."

"Please."

"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."

John snaps at him.

"Sherlock!"

"Well, nobody except me, and maybe Madison."

Mrs. Hudson becomes frustrated and upset.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't."

She storms off out of the flat, slamming the door as she leaves. I stand, trying to catch Mrs. Hudson as she runs out. When I turn back Sherlock leaps over the back of his armchair, then perches on the seat, his arms around his knees like a petulant child. John and I both glare at him.

"Go apologize to her."

"Now."

"Apologize?"

"Mm-hm."

"Oh, I envy you two so much."

John hesitates to take the bait, but caves and asks.

"You envy me?"

"Your mind. It's so placid, straightforward, barely used. Madison can at least make her usefully when she needs to. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control, a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad. I NEED A CASE!"

John shouts back to Sherlock, who had finished his thoughts by shouting as well.

"You've just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently."

Sherlock jumps up in the air and lands in a seated position on the chair.

"That was this morning!"

He drums his fingers on both hands on the arms of the chair, while stomping his feet on the floor.

"When's the next one?"

John shrugs.

"There's nothing on the website?."

I sigh as I take a seat at the table.

"Nothing, he finds interesting."

Sherlock stands and walks over to the table, collecting the laptop, that had been in front of me, handing it to John, who looks at the messages while Sherlock moves back to the window and narrates the message.

"Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?"

"Bluebell?"

"A rabbit, John! Ah, but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous... Like a fairy, according to little Kristy, then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of forced entry..."

He pauses for a moment before turning to us, his expression almost one of excitement.

"What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade, tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

"Are you serious?"

"It's this or Cluedo."

John closes the laptop and gets up, putting it back on the table.

"Uhh... No.. We are never playing that again."

"Why not."

I stand and place my hands on Sherlock's chest.

"Because it's not actually for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why."

"Well, it's was the only possible solution."

John sits back down in his chair.

"It's not in the rules."

"Then the rules are wrong!"

The doorbell rings, the three of us stop as John thoughtfully holds up a finger, as Sherlock and I look toward the door.

"Single ring."

"Maximum pressure just under the half second."

"Client!"

John and I look at each other, thankful, as Sherlock runs to the back to put on a jacket and shoes. John and I greet a young gingered man who looks very shaken up and nervous, introducing himself as Henry Knight.

After spending a few minutes watching a tv documentary about Baskerville, Sherlock pauses the video.

"What did you see?"

"Oh, I was just about to say."

"Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing."

"Yes, sorry, yes, of course. Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes?"

"No."

"It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else. It's sort of. Bleak but beautiful."

"Mm, Not interested, moving on."

"We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."

"Yes, Good, skipping to the night that your dd was violently killed. Where did that happen?"

John looks up as I rub my eyes, at Sherlock's insensitive attitude.

"There's a place, it's a sort of landmark called Dewer's Hollow. That's an ancient name for the Devil."

"So?"

John sighs trying to make some effort at off-putting Sherlock's lack of compassion.

"Did you see the Devil that night?"

Henry nods and whisper.

"Yes. It's huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes. It got him, tore at him, tore him apart."

Henry begins to cry, as Sherlock watches him intently.

"I can't remember anything else, they found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found."

John looks across to Sherlock.

"Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous: dog? Wolf?"

I remove my hand from my mouth.

"Or a genetic experiment."

"You laugh at me, Mrs. Holmes?"

Sherlock and I glance at each other.

"Other than at that joke, no."

"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville. About the type of monsters, they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

John clears his throat, in an attempt to stop Sherlock's continuing sarcasm, leaning forward to Henry. Sherlock rolls his eyes when he realizes what John is doing.

"Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?"

Henry sits forward, his attention still on Sherlock.

"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes, since you find it all so funny."

Henry stands and walks around the chair toward the door.

"Because of what happened last night."

"Why, what happened last night?"

John and Henry look at Sherlock confused.

"How. How do you know?"

"You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning, you had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down Mr. Knight"

I step forward and cut Sherlock off.

"And if you must, smoke. He'd be delighted."

Henry looks between the three of us, before settling his gaze on Sherlock, once again.

"How on earth did you notice all that?!"

Sherlock begins explaining.

"Punched-out holes where your ticket's been checked."

John sighs.

"Not now Sherlock."

"Oh please, I've been cooped up in here for ages."

"You're just showing off."

"He is a show-off, that's what they do."

Sherlock turns his attention back to Henry.

"The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee, the strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cook breakfast, or the neatest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich."

"How did you know it was disappointing."

I sigh.

"Is there any other type of breakfast on a train?"

Sherlock continues.

"The girl, a female's handwriting quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later, after she got off, I imagine you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all."

As Sherlock takes a deep breath, I step in, continuing his thought.

"Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your _shaking_ fingers. I know the sign. No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here. It's just after nine fifteen. You're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Are we wrong?"

Henry shakes his head.

"No. you're right. You're completely exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick, but I didn't know there were two of you like that."

"It's our job. Now shut up and smoke."

John consults the notes he's taken so far.

"Um, Henry, Your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?"

Henry concentrating on taking the first draw off his cigarette. As he exhales the lungful, Sherlock leans forward, taking in a large inhale, as John continues.

"That must be a ... quite a trauma. Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this ... to account for it?"

"What's what Doctor Mortimer says."

"Who?"

Sherlock and I answer together.

"His therapist."

Sherlock looks over to Henry, who looks shocked.

"Obviously."

"Louise Mortimer. She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons."

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything? "

"It's a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid."

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

" Yes, if I wanted poetry I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier. What did you _see_?"

Henry takes a deep breath.

"Footprints – on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart."

John continues his notes.

"Man's or a woman's?"

"Neither. They were .."

Sherlock stands, interrupting him.

"Is that it? Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?"

Henry tries to continue.

"Yes, but they were ..."

Sherlock interrupts him again.

"No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking."

Sherlock begins to walk into the kitchen as Henry tries to stop him.

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"

Sherlock stops and turns around, slowly.

"Say that again."

"I found the footprints, they were."

"No, no, no, your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them."

Henry thinks for a second, then repeats himself slowly.

" Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic ... hound."

Sherlock raises his hands. Startling John and myself.

"I'll take the case."

"Sorry, what?"

Sherlock puts his hands together, before placing them in front of his mouth and begins to pace slowly across the living room.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising."

John looks at him confused.

"No-no-no, sorry, _what_? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they're very promising?"

Sherlock stops.

"It's _nothing_ to do with footprints. As ever, John, you weren't listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it?"

John nods.

"Yeah, but it's very hush-hush."

"Sounds like a good place to start."

Henry looks up happy.

"So you'll come down, then?"

"No, I can't leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Don't worry, putting my best people onto it."

Sherlock walks over patting John's shoulder and wrapping his arm around me.

"Always rely on these two to send me the relevant data, as one never understands a word on it himself."

"What are you talking about, you're busy? You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining .."

"Bluebell, John! I've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit!"

He looks at Henry.

 _"_ NATO's in an uproar."

"Oh, sorry, no, you're not coming, then?"

Putting a regretful expression on his face Sherlock shakes his head. John groans, walking over to the mantelpiece and picks up the skull, taking a packet of cigarettes from underneath it. Putting the skull down again, he turns, tossing the packet across to Sherlock.

"John, you just gave away the best hiding spot we had."

Sherlock tosses the pack over his shoulder.

"I don't need those anymore. I'm going to Dartmoor. You go on ahead, Henry. We'll follow later."

Henry scrambles to his feet.

"So you are coming?"

Sherlock nods.

"Twenty-year-old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!


	12. Baskerville

Chapter Twelve

Baskerville

A few hours later the three of us head out to Devon, of course, there was no end of arguing from Sherlock about why I shouldn't go. Eventually, John and I win the fight after John told Sherlock that a smart, beautiful, woman may help in the countryside. When we get to Devon the three of us make our way out onto the moor. Sherlock and I make our way on top of a tall rock, overlooking the moor.

"This is really beautiful isn't it?"

"I don't know. Beauty is more of your department, isn't it?"

John is on the hill beside the rock, below Sherlock and I looking at a map. He points over a large compound.

"There's Baskerville."

He turns and points behind us, as Sherlock and I do the same.

"That's Grimpen Village. So that wooded area over there must be Dewer's Hollow."

"Is that a minefield?"

I point over to an area that has a few skull and crossbones signs.

"Well, technically Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keen on keep people out."

Sherlock nods and processed to climb off the rock.

"Clearly."

I look around for a little while longer before Sherlock calls out to me.

"Are you coming down or are you going to spend your whole trip up there."

I glance down at the boys.

"That depends. If I jump will you catch me?"

Sherlock takes a step closer to the rock, as John looks at him confused, before taking a step back, in case Sherlock falls.

"Are you serious? You two are insane."

I laugh softly, before I step off the rock, turning body sideways, so that my legs and torso land on Sherlock's arms and my arms land around his neck. Sherlock cradles me in his arms for a moment, before I lean in and kiss his cheek.

"Nice to know you'll catch me if I fall."

Sherlock nods, as he sits me down.

"Of course I will."

I laugh softly and John turns, shaking his head as he heads to the truck we had rented while we were here. Before I get too far away, Sherlock grabs my wrist, pulling me back into him, and kissing me softly, before the two of us head back to the truck. We make our way to Grimpen Village and come across a little inn. After Sherlock parks, we all get out, as I look around.

"The Cross Keys Inn... I'm not sure if that cute or an innuendo of some kind."

John chuckles softly as Sherlock looks at me a little confused. I look back over at him and shrug.

"What?"

He shakes his head, as we start toward the entrance of the pub, where we are a tour guide talking to some tourist about the hound and the dangers of the moor at night. I hang back from the boys to talk to him, while John and Sherlock go to the pub to get us a room.

"Do you really give tours on the moor?"

I put on a sweet and innocent act.

"Why yes, I do."

"Do you do any night tours so people have a chance to see the hound."

The guide shakes his head.

"No, it'd be too dangerous. But if you'd like I could give you a private tour."

I giggle softly.

"I don't know about that."

I continue my flirting act with the guide, until Sherlock comes up behind me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him.

"Tell me, Have, you seen it?"

The guide looks between the two of us confused for a moment.

"Maybe."

"Got any proof?"

"Why would I tell you if I did? 'Scuse me."

At his point John comes up behind us, hanging up his phone.

"I called Henry."

Sherlock cuts him off.

"Bet's off, John. Sorry."

The guide stops and looks at him confused.

"Bet, what bet?"

I laugh softly, still pushing the sweet and charming act.

"Sherlock bet John, fifty quid, that you couldn't prove you'd seen the hound."

John finally catches up and nods.

"Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could."

The guide smiles and points to Sherlock.

"You're gonna lose your money, mate, and with any luck, your lovely girlfriend here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I've seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind, couldn't make much out."

Sherlock sighs.

"So no witnesses, I suppose."

"No, but."

The guide begins going for his phone to show us a picture.

"Never are. sorry, John, I win."

"Wait wait. That's not all. People don't like going up there, you know. To the Hollow, gives them a bad sort of feeling."

"Oh! Is it haunted? Is that supposed to convince me?"

"Nah, don't be stupid, nothing like that, but I reckon there is something out there. Something from Baskerville escaped."

Sherlock and I both try to hold back a skeptical snigger.

"A clone?"

"A super- dog?"

The guide shrugs, taking our a large concrete case of a dog's paw print.

"In the labs there, the really secret labs, there are terrible things, rats as big as dogs some say, even dogs the size of horses."

John looks at the cast in awe, as we all do.

"We uh... Said fifty right."

Sherlock nods, taking out his wallet and handing John the fifty quid. After he does Sherlock walks away, with his arm still around me I have no choice but to go as well, as we make our way to our room, Sherlock leans in and whispers in my ear.

"I understand how you felt with Irene, I'm sorry, please don't ever do that again."

I laugh softly and nod.

"Okay."

The three of us get into the room and look around. Rather than getting unpacked Sherlock is getting ready to go back out.

"John, we need to get into Baskerville."

I stop unpacking and turn to him, but Sherlock answers my question before I can ask.

"It probably not the best idea to have the sister of a high profile criminal with us when we break into an army base."

I nod.

"Probably right."

The boys quickly exit the room as I start unpacking again.

"Keep him safe John."

"I will!"

I finish unpacking my things and then move onto some of the boy's things. Once I am finished I wave of tiredness washes over me and I decide to take a quick nap since I know that I don't get much sleep while the boys are working a case anyway. I sleep for a few hours, when I wake up it is dark outside and since the boys are not back yet I decide to go to the pub and get myself a drink. It isn't long before Sherlock comes in and looks completely out of sorts, getting himself a glass of Jack, before sitting in one of the chairs beside the fire. John follows shortly after taking the seat next to him. Naturally, I join them, standing between the chairs, coming in halfway through their conversation, John seems to be running the conversation, as Sherlock stares into the fire shocked and in disbelief.

"Maybe we should just look for whoever's got a big dog."

"Henry's right."

"What?"

Sherlock's voice is very shaky.

"I saw it too."

"What?"

I step in front of him and kneel in front of Sherlock, placing a hand on his knee, his eyes still fixed on the fire.

"Wait, wait. You saw what?"

Sherlock finally looks down, meeting my gaze.

"A hound, out there in the Hollow. A gigantic hound."

John laughs softly, thinking he is joking as Sherlock tries to blink back tears.

"Let's just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts."

Sherlock looks over to John.

"Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however, improbable, must be true."

"What do you mean?"

I shake my head as Sherlock picks up his glass, looking at his trembling hand.

"Look at me. I'm afraid John. Afraid. Always been able to keep me distant, divorce myself from feelings. But look, you see... body's betraying me. Interesting yes? Emotions. The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

"Yeah, all right Spock, just. Take it easy."

"Sherlock, maybe you're just little worked up. Maybe you saw what you saw because you're tired, yeah?"

"Worked... up? Me?! There's nothing wrong with me."

"Sherlock."

"There is nothing wrong with me!"

Sherlock shifts his glare from John to me, as he talks.

"Do you understand? You want me to prove it, yes? We're looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that's your brilliant theory. Cherchez le Chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start? How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer's yes."

John and I look over to a mother and son having dinner in the pub.

"She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for. Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly, he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economize on his own food."

John shrugs.

"Well, maybe he's just not hungry."

I shake my head,

"No, small plate. Starter. He's practically licked it clean."

Sherlock continues on his rant.

"She's nearly finished her pavlova. If she'd treated him, he'd have had as much as he wanted. He's hungry all right, and not well-off – you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes. "How d'you know she's his mother?" Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but mother's more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive – fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. "Widowed?" Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain around her neck – clearly her late husband's and too big for her finger. She's well-dressed but her jewellery cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it – it's sentimental. Now, the dog ... tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it's a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it is – a West Highland terrier called Whisky. "How the hell do you know that, Sherlock?" 'Cause she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening. I use my senses, John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine, in fact I've never been better, so just Leave. Me. Alone."

He glares at John and myself again, as John clears his throat.

"Okay. okay. And why would you listen to us? We're only your friends."

"I don't have friends"

John and I look at each other.

"Naah. I wonder why?"

The two of us get up and walk away, heading back to the room. We spend the night in a very awkward state with Sherlock. The next morning Sherlock is gone before John and I wake up. But when we go out to look for him he is walking back through the village but stops when he sees John and me across the church graveyard, sitting on the steps of a war memorial and looking through the notes in his notebook. Sherlock goes through the kissing gate and walks along the path towards John and I. The two of us lookup as we hear him approach. John's expression becomes uncomfortable as he tucks his notebook into his pocket. Grimacing briefly, Sherlock stops in front of us, also looking awkward.

"Did you, er, get anywhere with that Morse code?"

John looks down,

"No,"

"U, M, Q, R, A, Wasn't it? UMQRA."

"Nothing."

John and I begin to walk away and Sherlock follows along behind.

"Look, forget it. It's... I thought I was on to something. I wasn't.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"What about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her?"

"No."

"Too bad. Did you get any information?"

"You being funny now."

"Thought it might break the ice a bit."

I shake my head.

"Funny doesn't suit you."

John nods.

"I'd stick to ice."

The two of us were walking away again.

"John, Madison. Wait, what happened last night... Something happened to me; something I've not really experienced before..."

"Yes, you said: fear. Sherlock Holmes got scared. You said."

"No, no, no. it was more than that. It was in doubt. I felt doubt. I've always been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night."

I scoff softly

"You can't actually believe that you saw some kind of a monster."

"No, I can't believe that. But I did see it. So the question is how?"

"Good luck with that."

John turns to try and walk away once again.

"John, What I said before. I meant it. I don't have friends. I've just got one."

John nods glancing back at Sherlock before he walks away. I look up to Sherlock confused.

"Then what does that make me?"

Sherlock looks down at me.

"You're not my friend, you are my love."

I shake my head and laugh softly before Sherlock runs off to catch John.

Later as I walk around the small village, looking for something to do, since the boys won't let me go with them when they go to Baskerville, I run into Greg Lestrade, who looks surprised to see me.

"Madison, what are you doing here?"

I sigh.

"You know Sherlock, wouldn't let me stay in London without him. But won't let me go out and investigate with him."

"Yeah well with a hound on the loss I don't blame him."

Lestrade and I spend most the day together, talking about his kids and wife. Until later that evening he gets a phone call.

"Uh... I got to go, Sherlock needs me to meet him the Hollow. Where is that?"

I sigh.

"I can show you but I'm not telling you."

"I'm not taking you out there."

I give Lestrade a serious look before he shakes his head and gives in.

"Alright, fine, come on."

Lestrade and I quickly make our way to the Hollow where Sherlock and John are dealing with a distort Henry. Sherlock and John are shouting at the confused and frightened man, putting their hands up as I step up beside Sherlock.

"Madison what are you doing here?"

Sherlock looks back to Lestrade, disapprovingly.

"She wouldn't tell me where Hollow was."

I step in front of Sherlock and speak calmly to Henry.

"Henry, please, just calm down. You were a scared little boy who couldn't deal with the tumor of what he saw."

Sherlock continues.

"Henry, remember. "Liberty In." Two words; two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago. You'd started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry?"

"Not a monster. A man."

Sherlock and I begin doing our switching off thing that annoys John.

"You couldn't cope. You were just a child, so you rationalized it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no-one would believe a word that you said."

John steps forward and talks gently to Henry.

"Okay, it's okay, mate."

He carefully takes the pistol from Henry as he speaks through tears.

"But we saw it: the hound, last night. We s... we, we, we did, we saw ..."

Sherlock nods his head.

"Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that's how it works. But there never was any monster."

As Sherlock utters though words we hear howls from the woods above us. Everyone snaps their heads up, as John and Lestrade aim their flashlights upward to the top of the Hollow, where a low shape can forward. Slowly stalking along the rim and snarling. I can't help it, I scream.

"Sherlock!"

Everyone makes sure we are all seeing the same thing. Before Sherlock goes after a man approaching us from behind, pulling the man's gas mask off.

"It's the fog! The drug: it's in the fog! Aerosol dispersal – that's what it said in those records. Project HOUND – it's the fog! A chemical minefield!"

We all cover our faces, as quickly as we can. As the Hound stalks closer to the group, snarling. I can hear the man behind me call out.

"For God's sake, kill it! Kill it!"

John and Lestrade raise their guns, shooting at the hound, taking it down quickly. As soon as the hound is down Sherlock drags Henry over to it.

"Look at it, Henry."

When Henry gets over to the hound's body, he seems to calm down, trying to the older man behind the group before hurling himself at the man, screaming in rage.

"You Bastard!"

Henry screams, attacking the man before the boys pull the two apart.

"Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn't you just kill me?!"

I step between the two of them.

"Because dead men get listened to. He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield; pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here. "

Sherlock nods, continuing my thought.

"Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once. Oh, in this case, Henry! Thank you. It's been brilliant."

He laughs delighted, as John and I speak at the same time.

"Sherlock... Timing..."

"Not good?"

Henry calms back down.

"No, no, it's – it's okay. It's fine because this means ... this means that my dad was right. He found something out, didn't he, and that's why you'd killed him – because he was right, and he'd found you right in the middle of an experiment."

The old man stands up before he can say anything there's a savage snarl from behind us. Everyone spins towards the dog, who is whining in pain but gets up off the ground. John aims and fires twice, and it goes down again. When we turn back the old man is running away from the group. We all run after him, running out of the hollow and through the woods. As we rush out of the wood line, we are met with an explosion about twenty yards away. Sherlock turns and covers me with his body, before looking back to where the explosion had been. I look around and notice that the older man, must have run into the minefield and stepped on one of them.

The next morning we are set to head out and back to London. After putting my bag in the jeep I head over to the boys and hear them fighting, like normal.

"You locked me in a bloody lab."

"I had to, it was an experiment."

"An Experiment?! I was terrified, Sherlock. I was scared to death."

"I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in your coffee, then I arranged everything with Major Barrymore. IT was all totally scientific, laboratory conditions. Well, literally. I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an average one."

"But it wasn't in the sugar."

"No, well, I wasn't to know you'd already been exposed to the gas."

"So you got it wrong."

"No."

"You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar. You got it wrong."

"A bit. It won't happen again."

I laugh softly as the boys stand up.

"Sherlock Holmes, you are human. It will happen again."


	13. The Fall

**Chapter Thirteen**

 **The Fall**

 **Since our last few cases, Sherlock's popularity and requests have skyrocketed. It seems as of late we have always had a case, which is great for Sherlock's mental state, not so much his psychically one. However, I had managed to get the boys to take a break from this cases for a few days, at least. Sadly, this gave Sherlock time to go throw the tabloids. I can hear him complaining about it as I exit the bedroom Sherlock and I have began to share.**

 **"Boffin. Boffin Sherlock Holmes."**

 **"Everyone gets one eventually."**

 **John doesn't even look up from his paper.**

 **I look at the two of them, as I rub my head and lean on the archway from the kitchen.**

 **"One what?"**

 **"Tabloid nickname. SuBo, Nasty Nick, Shouldn't worry, I'll probably get one soon."**

 **Sherlock points to one of the tabloids in front of John.**

 **"Page five, column six, first sentence."**

 **John glances up at Sherlock, before looking through the tabloid. At this point Sherlock as also picked up his dear stoker and started complaining as well. The two of them talking over each other.**

 **"Why is it always the hat photograph?"**

 **"Bachelor John Watson."**

 **"What sort of hat is it anyway."**

 **"Bachelor? What the hell are they implying."**

 **"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?"**

 **"It's a deerstalker. Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson."**

 **"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do? Throw it?"**

 **"Confirmed Bachelor John Watson."**

 **"Some sort of death frisbee."**

 **"It's got flaps, ear flaps it's an ear hat."**

 **Sherlock skims the hat across the room to John, As I step into the room.**

 **"I told you two, you needed to be more careful."**

 **"What do you mean, more careful?"**

**I sigh softly and pick up the hat, John had placed on top of the tabloids.**

 **"I mean this isn't a deerstalker now, it's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you're not exactly a private detective anymore. You very close to being famous."**

 **"Oh, it'll pass."**

 **John stands up.**

 **"It'd better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you."**

 **Sherlock has placed himself in his armchair, looking over at John.**

 **"It really bothers you."**

 **"What?"**

**"What people say."**

 **"Yes."**

 **"About me? I don't understand. Why would it upset you?"**

 **I sigh and turn heading back into the bedroom, regretting talking the boys into taking a few days off.**

 **A few days later Sherlock is working on some experiment while I am sitting in his armchair reading "Little Women," by Louisa May Alcott, and John is reading the newspaper, across from me, when Sherlock's phone trills again, and again. After a few more rings John gets annoyed by it and goes to get the phone.**

 **"I'll get it, shall I?"**

 **He picks up the phone and checks the messages on it, his face slowly fills with shock, I glance up from my book.**

 **"John, what is it?"**

 **John turns and takes the phone into the kitchen, holding it out to Sherlock.**

 **"Here."**

 **"Not now, I'm busy."**

 **"Sherlock…"**

 **"Not now."**

 **"He's back."**

 **Sherlock immediately lifts his head and takes the phone, his eyes widen upon seeing the message, as he sinks back into his chair, staring off into space. I walk into the kitchen behind John.**

 **"Boys, what's going on?"**

 **Sherlock stands and sighs loudly.**

 **"Jim Moriarty is back."**

 **I freeze upon hearing his name. Sherlock and I are still the only ones who know that Jim is my brother, and we wanted to keep it that way. Sherlock let's out another loud sigh.**

 **"We should get to The Tower of London."**

 **John nods in agreement.**

 **"Yeah."**

 **Sherlock turns to me, after grabbing his coat.**

 **"You are staying here. I will not have you anywhere near this case."**

 **"For once I agree with him. You do not need to be mixed up with Jim Moriarty."**

 **I nod sighing softly, wishing I could be of more help. Sherlock kisses my forehead before he and John leave the flat. The boys come back all too late for my liking with a case involving a man like Jim. Of course, when they got home Sherlock and I told John that Jim was, in fact, my brother, of course, he didn't respond well.**

 **"For how long now we have been running around, solving cases, with Jim Moriarty's Sister!"**

 **I stand quietly in the middle of the flat taking the tongue lashing John is giving me until Sherlock steps in.**

 **"John, yes she is Jim Moriarty's sister, she is also the reason that we have solved many cases. She is one of your friends and she is the woman I love. She is nothing like her brother!"**

 **Six months pass, it had taken John a long time to get over the fact Sherlock and I had hidden the fact of my brother from him, but he had gotten over it. Jim had been arrested without incident, and Sherlock was going to be the star witness of the trail. I walk into the main room as we are all getting ready for the trail. Sherlock calls out to me.**

 **"You remember everything to make sure that Moriarty does not know we are involved?"**

 **I nod.**

 **"Yes, leave ten minutes after you, through the back of Mrs. Hudson's flat, if anyone asks she is my aunt. Don't sit with or around John on the trail and play the role of supporting sister to James."**

 **Sherlock nods.**

 **"Alright. I just want to make sure you are safe. I don't know what, if anything, Moriarty may do to you if he finds out we are together."**

 **I nod.**

 **"I know. Now you boys best be off huh?"**

 **Sherlock nods, kissing my forehead yet again before he and John leave the flat. Ever since James came back Sherlock has been extra affectionate. When I get to the courthouse I notice Sherlock walking into the men's room. About five minutes later I sneak my way in, finding Sherlock washing his hands. He looks up at me shocked.**

 **"Madison, what are you doing here? You can't be here if Moriarty finds out we are together…"**

 **My eyes well up with tears.**

 **"I know. I know. But Sherlock, what if he gets out and goes after you, I can't do anything about it, and we'll have to spend even more time apart then we already have."**

 **Sherlock pulls me in close, hugging me to his chest.**

 **"I know, I'm just trying to think of your safety."**

 **"I know, but Sherlock I love you and this is torture."**

 **"I know it is. It is for me as well."**

 **I look up to Sherlock before he pulls me in for a kiss, cupping my cheeks in his hands. Sadly, our moment is broken by someone entering the restroom as well, the two of us pull away from each other, as Sherlock glances up at the person, while I fit my lipstick.**

 **"Wrong toilet."**

 **I clear my throat.**

 **"I am very sorry, Mr. Holmes. I trust you will forget this very embarrassing encounter."**

 **Sherlock nods, as the two of us play as if we don't know each other and I had just attacked him.**

 **"Please, next time don't come on as strong."**

 **I nod and look down, exiting the restroom. Making sure my makeup is fixed and presentable before heading into the courtroom and sitting behind my brother. Jim looks over his shoulder at me and smiles.**

 **"Hey, sis."**

 **I shake my head.**

 **"Jesus, James, what have you done?"**

 **He shrugs and turns back forward as the trail starts. Before long Sherlock is called to the stand.**

 **"You said in your previous statement that James Moriarty was a consulting criminal."**

 **"Yes."**

 **"Your words. Can you expand on that answer?"**

 **"James Moriarty is for hire."**

 **"A tradesman?"**

 **"Yes."**

 **"But not the sort who'd fix your heating."**

 **"No, the sort to plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I'm sure he'd make a pretty decent job of your boiler."**

 **There's a muffled laughter from a few in the courtroom.**

 **"Would you describe him as…"**

 **"Leading. You're leading the witness. He'll object and the judge will uphold. Ask me how.** ** _How_** **would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?"**

 **"** ** _How_** **would you describe this man – his character? "**

 **" First mistake. James Moriarty isn't a man at all – he's a spider; a spider at the center of a web – a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances."**

 **"And how long…"**

 **"No, no, don't-don't do that. That's really not a good question."**

 **The judge snaps at him angrily.**

 **"Mr. Holmes!"**

 **"How long have I known him? Not really your best line of inquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun; he tried to blow me up. I felt we had a special something."**

 **I take a deep breath and can no longer take this. I get up and quietly make my way out of the courtroom, pretending I had to take a phone call, and back to the flat. A few hours later Sherlock arrives, looking at me a little confused.**

 **"What happened?"**

 **I shake my head.**

 **"I'm sorry, I couldn't take it. I couldn't just start crying in the middle of the courtroom so I faked an emergency and left."**

 **Sherlock nods and sighs.**

 **"Alright, relax darling."**

 **I nod and take a deep breath, placing my hands on the sides of my neck. Even though it is still early in the evening by the time Sherlock got home I decide to take a bath and then go to bed. Late that night I am awakened by Sherlock coming into the room and crawl into bed. When he is I roll over to face him.**

 **"Oh, I didn't know you were awake. I didn't wake you did I?"**

 **I shrug.**

 **"It's alright."**

 **I sit up on to my elbow.**

 **"I've been thinking. Until James is put away and we know that no one else is working for him to get to you, I think I should go and stay at a motel or something."**

 **Sherlock nods.**

 **"I think… that is a good idea. I don't like it, but I think it is the best idea we have had."**

 **I nod and lay my head on his chest, snuggling up with him.**

 **"I'll leave tomorrow morning if anyone asks I was visiting Mrs. Hudson."**

 **I feel Sherlock's chest rise as he takes a deep breath, wrapping his arms around me. Who knows when we will be able to hold each other like this again. I leave the next morning, before hearing the news that James got out a judgment of not guilty. I exhale a sigh a sigh of relief that I had left the flat when I did. I have no doubt that James went straight to see Sherlock, so I fight the urge to call him or John. I am forced to get the information about the man I love from the telly and the paper. Sherlock had become a fugitive and had gone on the run. Becoming the led suspect in a current case.**

 **One day I cannot stop my need to at least see what's going on with them, so I go and visit Mrs. Hudson. She is worried, as I am. We talk for about an hour before John comes running into the flat, in a panic.**

 **"Mrs. Hudson! Oh, thank god you are okay."**

 **"Of course, I'm okay."**

 **John's eyes widen.**

 **"What is it, John?"**

 **"We got to go."**

 **"What?"**

 **"We have to go now!"**

 **John turns and runs out of the flat and I follow him. The two of us halt a cab and head to Bart's hospital. Soon after we get there, John gets a phone call.**

 **"Hello?"**

 **John puts the call on speakerphone.**

 **"Sherlock, you okay?"**

 **"Turn around and walk back the way you came now. Both of you."**

 **I shake my head.**

 **"No, we're coming in."**

 **"Just do as I ask. Please."**

 **John looks around.**

 **"Where?"**

 **The two of us walk about a yard or two back the way we came.**

 **"Stop there."**

 **"Sherlock?"**

 **"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."**

 **John and I look up, our faces filling with horror and panic.**

 **"God…"**

 **"I… I… I… can't come down, so we'll just have to do it like this."**

 **John takes a shaky breath.**

 **"What's going on?"**

**"An apology. It's all true."**

 **"What?"**

 **"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty. Madison isn't his sister, that's why only the three of us know or think she is."**

 **I shake my head and step back.**

 **"Sherlock, whatever you are going. Stop it now."**

 **"I'm fake. The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."**

 **John shakes his head.**

 **"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met ... the** ** _first time we met_** **, you knew all about my sister, right?"**

 **"And you knew all about my drug problem."**

 **We hear Sherlock chuckles over the phone.**

 **"Nobody could be that clever."**

 **"You could."**

 **"I researched the two of you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick it's just a magic trick."**

 **"No. stop it now."**

 **John and I take a step forward before Sherlock shouts.**

 **"No, stay exactly, where you are. Don't move. Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"**

 **"Do what?"**

 **"This phone call, it's my note. That's what people do, don't they, leave a note?"**

 **"Leave a note when?"**

 **"Goodbye John. I love you Madison."**

 **John shakes his head.**

 **"No. don't."**

 **We see Sherlock toss the phone behind him. John shouts.**

 **"Sherlock!"**

 **A few moments later Sherlock spreads his arms to either side and falls forward, plummeting toward the ground. I grip John's arm as the two of us scream.**

 **"Sherlock!"**

 **I drop to my knees and scream, tears pouring down my face, in the middle of the street, as John runs toward where Sherlock had landed. I stand and try to make my way toward the hospital, but I am grabbed by a man on the street.**

 **"Ma'am I need you to come with me."**

 **"No, get away from me."**

 **"I need you to come with me."**

 **I shake my head and try to continue to Sherlock's body.**

 **"Vivitur, amica mea."**

 **I stop and stare at the man in shock.**

 **"No.."**

 **The man nods.**

 **"I need you to come with me, Madison."**

 **Vivitur, amica mea, is a code phrase Sherlock and I had worked out when we found out my brother was back in case I got taken by my brother. I was to send that message to Sherlock as soon as I could to let him know I was alive. It means, I'm alive, my love. I go with the man and am lead to a side street and into the back door of a bed and breakfast close to the Bart's, and being taken into the small room. Before long Sherlock enters the room, he still has fake blood in his hair and all over his face. I stand and step toward him and his outstretched arms. Slapping him, hard, as I stop in front of him.**

 **"You Bastard!"**

 **He rubs his cheek.**

 **"Okay, I deserve that."**

 **When he pulls his head back up, I grab his coat and pull him in closely kissing him deeply, whispering.**

 **"You bastard!"**

 **Sherlock kisses me back, laughing softly when I pull away from him, due to the small amount of fake blood I have on my face.**

 **"Oh, you're one to talk."**

 **"Yeah, I know."**

 **He takes out a tissue and wipes my face.**

 **"But darling, I can't stay long, neither can you. I will be in touch with you I promise. Go and visit my brother and he will give you the codes you need to know where to meet me when I am back in London. For now, I need you to go back to John."**

 **I nod.**

 **"Okay, I understand. But I hate you."**

 **He nods.**

 **"I love you too. "**

 **We share one last tender kiss before I leave the small room, not to see my love until I don't know when.**

 **I am sorry if this chapter ended oddly or badly, every time I started writing I was crying like I did the first time watching this episode and tried to come up with a way for him to tell Madison right after it happened.**


	14. The Rendezvous

Chapter Fourteen

The Rendezvous.

It is around midnight, on a cold, windy, and rainy night in South London. A woman dressed in all black walking around the streets, under the woman's black hood you can see pieces of silver blonde hair. The woman walks down a cobblestone path, as her heels click on the stones. She is making her way to a small INN, just off the path of the busy city streets. As she approaches the INN, a phone chimes. The woman takes out the phone and reads the message, which is a mix of Latin, Dutch, and Catalan.

 _ **Locus III, Tweede verdieping.**_

 _ **Klop Vier Keer.**_

 _ **Fins aviat.**_

 _ **ɛsɦaː**_

Translation:

Room three, Second floor.

knock four times.

See you soon.

SH.

The woman looks up from the phone, her bright red lips reflexing the light of the lamp posts, as she makes her way to one of the fire escapes behind the INN, climbing up and making her way to the second floor to what should logically should be the third rooms' window, knocking four times.

*Knock Knock, Knock Knock*

The person on the other side of the window knocks the same four knocks.

*Knock Knock, Knock Knock*

Before opening the window.

The man who opens the window has shoulder length curly hair and pale skin. His hair hangs in from his eyes. Smile as he greets the woman in Norwegian.

"Vel, Hei min kjære"

(Well, hello my dear) 

The woman returns his smile and addresses the man in Czech.

"Už je to dávno."

(it's been too long.)

The woman climbs through the window into the small room, as the man closes the window behind her. Once alone in the room, the couple begin addressing each other in English, the man is the first to speak.

"Well, it's nice to hear your accent doesn't come through when you speak Czech anymore."

The woman giggles softly, pulling her hood down, revealing the sister of James Moriarty, Janessa Madison Moriarty. Known to the world as Madison Love.

"After learning the language in about an hour, it's just a process of repeating it."

The man grins.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"I honestly don't know."

The man swipes his bangs out of his face, revealing the strong features of William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Who had been on the run for the past year and six months.

"I must agree with you though, it has been too long."

Sherlock sits on the edge of the bed in the room since there are no other pieces of furniture in it.

"How is everyone?"

Madison shrugs her shoulders.

"John is moving on. He has a new girlfriend and things seem to be going well. He did go through a very rough time though."

"I imagine they all did."

Madison nods.

"Yes, they did. But, they are all doing well now."

"Good."

Madison walks over to Sherlock, standing between his legs, and places her arms around his neck, while he plays with her hair.

"Blonde?"

"Yeah, blonde."

"I like it."

"Yeah? I feel like it makes me look less like my brother to the untrained eye."

"That it does."

Madison leans down to Sherlock, kissing him softly. The two share an embrace for a few minutes before Madison pulls away.

"Will it always be like this? Us, sneaking around into dark, crappy hotel rooms?"

Sherlock looks up to Madison, run his fingers along her cheek.

"Of course not. I have almost worked my way throw your brother's system out of the country. So a six month months to a year tops."


	15. Back to 221B

Chapter Fifteen

Back to 221B

Sherlock had been gone two years now, I only got to see him once every six months, if we were lucky. But I suppose I shouldn't complain, John still thinks he is died, as does Mrs. Hudson. Which is what brings me to the events of today, John had asked me to met him at Mrs. Hudson's. Once back at 221B I remember that even though he is not really died, I, not only, have to ask as if he is, but I have to make sure that everyone else thinks he is. This job is exhausting. The only break I get is when I go check in with Mycroft to see what's going on with Sherlock and what codes I should be expecting.

I bet John to the flat by a few minutes, but wait for him before knocking. When he is there he hugs me tightly, since I haven't seen him in about a month.

"Hello, Madison. Still blonde I see."

I laugh and nod.

"Yeah, I just hope Mrs. Hudson recognizes me. I haven't seen her since I changed it."

"I'm sure she will."

I nod, as John knocks on the door. Mrs. Hudson opens the door and looks at John, a little disappointed, from what I've gathered from Mrs. Hudson, John had not been around to see her or called her for almost a year and a half. Sher looks from John to me.

"Madison! Oh your hair looks so nice. Please come on in you two."

John and I enter the bottom floor of the flat and follow Mrs. Hudson into the kitchen.

"Would you like some tea?"

I nod.

"Sure, that sounds delightful."

Mrs. Hudson starts some tea, a few cups and milk toward John.

"Oh, you don't take it do you? You forget a silly thing like that after two years. You forget a lot of skill little things."

John sighs.  
"I know I'm sorry."

"I'm not your mother, I have not right asking, but just one phone call would have done."

I stand and rub Mrs. Hudson's shoulder.

"You three were like my own, and two lose two of you, after really losing one."

She shakes her head, I glance over at John, when back to her.

"It's alright. Uh… would it be alright if I went up to see the flat?"

John stands and nods.

"Yeah, I'd like to see the old place again too."

Mrs. Hudson nods.

"Sure."

The three of us make our way up to the flat. Mrs. Hudson and I are the first to enter that flat. I look around the dust covered room. I remember hearing Sherlock playing the violin at 3 am and I remember our little arguments about cases and about random things I don't even remember what they were about.

John enters behind Mrs. Hudson and I, looking around, as Mrs. Hudson goes to open the curtains, knocking even more dust into the air.

"He never like me dusting."

"No, we remember."

John stops, between the door and the archway to the kitchen, as Mrs. Hudson looks over at John, and I do the same.

"So why now? What changed your mind?"

"Well, I've got some news."

"God, is it serious?"

"What? No no, I'm not ill. I've well, I'm moving on."

"Oh you're emigrating?"

"Nope, no I've met someone."

"Oh! Lovely."

"Yeah. we're getting married. Well, i'm going to ask, anyway."

"So soon after Sherlock?"

John and I laugh.

"Uh… Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock was with me."

John nods.

"No, I'm not gay. I've met a woman."

Mrs. Hudson looks over to the two of us.  
"Oh. well, good for you."

John and I laugh as my phone goes off. The caller ID is unknown, so it's probably Mycroft.

"I'm sorry, I've got to take this."

I step out into the hallway.

"Hello?"

"Qui Reversus Est."

(He's back)

Which brings about the question if he is back, why are we still speaking in Latin. Once I hear these words Mycroft hangs up. I poke my head back into the room.

"Hey, sorry, I've got to head out. I'll see you two later, John good luck."


	16. He's Back

Chapter Sixteen

He's Home

That night I had gotten a call from Mary Maston, John's girlfriend and hopefully now fiancee. She sounded a little confused.

"Maddie? Uh… John and I just got kicked out of the restaurant we were at. Um… Sherlock's back, do you remember the restaurant you and I went to about a week ago, meet us there."

I sigh softly and shake my head.

"God, Sherlock, what did you do."

There is no doubt in my mind he went to John first and sprung the fact he was still alive and back in London on him. When I arrive at the restaurant, I see John, Mary, and Sherlock sitting in at a table. John and Mary are dressed very nicely, having been at one of the five-star restaurants in London before Sherlock got them kicked out. John and Mary are sitting across from Sherlock with their arms crossed, as I approach the group.

"Hey, guys."

Mary smiles up at me and seems to be more intrigued by this situation then upset by it. John lifts a hand as if to wave, still staring at Sherlock. John takes a deep breath as I move behind Sherlock sitting across from Mary.

"So this was all your brother's plan?"

Mary glanced over at John and then back to Sherlock, pointing at him.

"He would have needed a confidante."

John clears his throat looking over to Mary, who looks away.

"Sorry."

"But he was the only one? The only one who knew?"

Sherlock shrugs.

"A couple of others. Iw was a very elaborate plan, it had to be. The next of the 13 possibilities was…"

John cuts him off.

"Who else? Who else knew? Who?!"

"Molly."

"Molly?!"

"Molly Hooper, Madison, and some of my homeless network, that's all."

John looks over at me shocked.

"What you knew?! That's why you disappeared for a week at least once every six months."

"Of course she knew John. She found out right after I jumped off the roof. She didn't know about the plan before that."

John takes a deep breath.

"Okay, so just your brother, Molly, Madison and 100 tramps."

"Ha, no! 25 at most."

John jumps across the table, gripping Sherlock's throat. Mary and I jump up to try and separate the two of them. Soon a few men in the restaurant have to help us separate them, but by the time we get them apart, Sherlock has a bloody lip from the few punches John had been able to land. One of the waiters gives us a small thing of tissues and we are asked to leave by the manager, well, told more than asked. When we get outside Mary stays with John and I stay with Sherlock as he told the tissue to his lip. We walk for a few awkward minutes of silence before we get to a little deli shop that is still open at this late hour.

Once in there, John leans against the deli case and Sherlock stands in front of him, patting the tissue against this bloody lip.

"Seriously, it's not a joke? You're really keeping it."

He motions around his upper lip, referring to John's new mustache.

"Er, Yeah."

"Sure?" 

"Mary likes it."

"Hmm, no she doesn't." 

"She does."

"Doesn't"

"oh don't. Oh, brilliant!"

John turns to Mary.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you"

"Right, no, no, this is charming! I've really missed this!"

John takes a deep breath and steps toward Sherlock whispering softly.

"One word, Sherlock, that is all I would have needed! One word to let me know that you were alive."

"I've nearly been in contact so many times, but I worried that you know, you might say something indiscreet."

"What?"

I sigh.

"He thought you'd let the cat out of the bag."

"So this is my fault!."

Mary and I roll our eyes.

"Oh god."

"Why am I the only one who thinks this is wrong? The only one reacting like a human being!"

"Overreacting."

"Overreacting."

Mary speaks softly.

"John."

"Overreacting! So you fake your own death and you waltz in here large as bloody like!"

"Shh…"

"But I'm not meant to have a problem with it, cos Sherlock Holmes thinks it's a perfectly Ok thing to do!"

Sherlock shouts back at John.

"Shut up, John! I don't want everyone knowing I'm still alive!"

"Oh, so it's still a secret?"

"Yes, it's still a secret."

It suddenly makes sense why Mycroft spoke in code when he called me telling me that Sherlock was back.

"Promise you won't tell anyone."

"Swear to God!"

Sherlock steps toward John and whispers.

"London is in danger, John. There's an imminent terrorist attack and I need your help."

John looks over at Mary shocked, before looking back to Sherlock.

"My help?"

Sherlock smirks.

"You have missed this, admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, just the three of us against the rest of the world."

John reaches up, gripping Sherlock's collar and headbutts him. When Sherlock's head moves forward his hand his over his nose and he leans forward, wrap an arm around me to keep his balance. As the manager of the deli shop steps toward us, I put a hand up.

"We are leaving."

As we step out of the shop Sherlock is tilting his head back, his lower face covered in blood.

"I don't understand I said I'm sorry. Isn't that what you're supposed to do."

Mary chuckles.

"Gosh, you don't know anything about human nature, do you?"

I hand Sherlock a tissue.

"Honey, don't lean your head back, you'll just make yourself sick later."

Sherlock takes the tissue and brings his head back down, holding the tissue to his nose.

"Nature? No. Human? No."

Mary smiles and glance between the two of us.

"I'll talk him round."

"You will?"

"Yeah."

I smile at Mary.

"Thank you."

She nods and steps forward giving me a hug before she walks over to John who has gotten a cab. It's hard to imagine that when she first got with John that the two of us didn't get along. She thought that John and I were too close to be just friends, but after the first time I 'disappeared' for about a week, she became a lot nicer toward me.

I turn to Sherlock.

"So I believe you have one more person to tell that you're back."

"Yes, I do. I need to tell George."

"Greg."

"Yes, Greg."

I laugh softly.

"So why don't you go get cleaned up and I will meet you back at the flat you had be rent after you left."

Sherlock nods and kisses my forehead before he heads across the street to a small convenience store and I head back to my flat. By the time Sherlock gets to the flat I am getting out of the shower. Of course, he has a key to the flat and I walk into the living room, as he looks around.

"This place is much nicer than Baker Street, how can you afford this?"

"Well, John split the payments people are still making to the two of you with me and after James died he made sure I was taken care of and got everything he had."

"Think you'll be okay with moving back to Baker Street?"

He walks over to me and places his hands on my waist.

"Of course, that's our place, that's our home."

I place my hands on his shoulders before he leans in to kiss me. I kiss him back, moving my hands to the back of his head, running my fingers through his curls.

"Are you going to stay blonde?"

I laugh softly.

"Don't you like it blonde?"

Sherlock shrugs.

"I think you'd look better as a red hair, it would match your personality."

I scoff as Sherlock laughs, continuing his thought.

"I just want my Madison back, exactly as she was before I left."

I smile and bite my lip.

"Then I'll dye it back."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I don't need to hide anymore, you're back."


	17. Let's Play Deduction

Chapter Seventeen

Let's Play Deduction

It doesn't take me long to get everything that I need to move back into 221B packed and head over. Since most the furniture coming with the flat when I rented it, all I need to pack are my clothes. When I arrive back at 221B I notice that Sherlock has stuck pictures and maps all over the white and black wall behind the couch, covering even the smiley face he uses for target practice. I glance over to see Sherlock and Mycroft sitting in the armchairs, talking, and playing a board game, that appears to be Operation. I can hear Sherlock and Mycroft fighting as I slowly walk into the flat.

"Solid information, a secret terrorist organization is planning an attack."

"That's what secret terrorist organizations do, isn't it? It's their version of golf. Hello Madison, welcome home."

Sherlock doesn't break his gaze from his brother as he calls out to me.

"Thank you, darling. Hello, Mycroft."

I cross over to give Sherlock a peck on the cheek and take a sit on the arm of his armchair, as he wraps an arm around me.

Mycroft stares me down as if trying to get me to leave.

"Madison..."

I laugh softly.

"I'm not leaving Mycroft. I already know what's going on."

"How?"

"Well judging by the people and the maps Sherlock has placed all over the wall, and the fact that you said 'terrorist organization,' I can only assume there is going to be an attack on Parliament sometime within the month, if not the week."

Mycroft sighs and softens his gaze, still clear he wants me to leave, but he knows I won't.

"I always forget you share the same gift as my brother and I."

I smile softly over to Mycroft.

"So please continue, I assume an agent gave his life to get this information."

Sherlock scoff.

"Well, perhaps he shouldn't have done that. He was obviously just showing off."

Mycroft takes a deep breath, being more conscious of human life when it comes to his agents.

"None of there 'markers' of yours is behaving in any way suspiciously? Your move."

Sherlock shakes his head, shifting his focus to the board game.

"No, Mycroft, but you have to trust me. I'll find the answer."

I chuckle softly.

"But it will be in an odd phrase in an online blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced lonely hearts ad."

Sherlock sits up, every so slight, taking his focusing from the game back to Mycroft.

"Your move."

"I've given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you're on the case."

"I am on the case, we both are, well all three of us actually. Look at us right now."

The game board buzzes and Mycroft sighs.

"Oh bugger!"

Sherlock chuckles.

"Can't handle a broken heart. How very telling."

"Why do you think his plan involved you tell me right afterward? It was so he didn't have to when he came to visit my new flat. That and he knew that you'd make him physically check in on me."

"That is very true."

Mycroft sighs again.

"Don't be smart."

Sherlock glances up at up.

"That takes me back."

He shifts his gaze back to myself, mincing a young Mycroft.

"Don't be smart Sherlock I'm the smart one."

"I am the smart one."

"I used to think I was an idiot."

"Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on until we met other children."

The boys lean back in their sits as they talk about their childhood.

"Oh, yes, that was a mistake."

"Ghastly. What were they thinking of?"

I laugh softly.

"Probably that you two need to make some friends. Lord, I can barely handle you two together as adults, I can only imagine your parents dealing with you as children."

The boys both glare up at me.

"What? You two act like you're five when you are together."

Mycroft sighs.

"Of course you go for that sort of thing now, don't you Sherlock. Friends."

"And you don't? Ever?"

"If you seem slow to me Sherlock, and Madison is the only one who seems to have even the slightest among of intelligence, can you imagine what real people are like? I'm living in a world of goldfish."

I laugh softly.

"Why not just get in contact with that Irene Adler? I'm sure she's still running around somewhere and she is... slightly intelligent."

Sherlock nods.

"That and I've been away for two years, so I thought you'd at least found yourself a goldfish."

Mycroft looks at the two of us disgusted.

"Change the subject, now."

"Rest assured, Mycroft, whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre."

At this moment we hear a small noise coming from the door.

"Ooh-ooh."

"Speaking of which."

We turn to see Mrs. Hudson being in a tea and smile.

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it! Him sitting in his chair again. Isn't it wonderful, Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft sighs.

"I can barely contain myself."

"Oh, he really can you know."

"He's secretly pleased to see you underneath all that."

"Sorry which of us?"

"All of you?"

Sherlock stands up and walks over to the table.

"Let's play deductions. I client left while I was out, what do you reckon?"

"I'm busy."

Mycroft sighs, catching the hat Sherlock has thrown to him.

"Oh go on it's been an age."

"Are you going to join us, Ms. Love?"

I shake my head.

"No, I'm good, thank you. I'll just watch the masters."

Mycroft looks up to Sherlock.

"I always win."

I scoff.

"Then why are you putting it off? Go on."

"I find nothing interesting about the hat of a well-traveled anxious, sentimental, unfit creature of habit with appalling halitosis... Damn..."

He tosses the hat back to Sherlock.

"Isolated too, don't you think."

"Why would he be isolated?"

"He?"

"Obviously."

"Why? Size of the hat?"

"Don't' be silly. Some women have large heads too. No, he's recently had his haircut, you can see the little hairs adhering to the perspiration stains on the inside."

"Some women have short hair too."

"Balance of probability little brother."

"Not that you've ever spoken to a woman with short hair, or, you know, any woman."

"Stains show he's out of condition. He's sentimental because the hat has been repaired, three, maybe four..."

Sherlock cuts him off throwing the hat back.

"Five times. Very neatly. The cost of the repairs exceeds the cast of the hat, so he's mawkishly attached to it. But it's more than that. One patch for two patches would indicate sentimentality. But five? Five's obsessive behavior. Obsessive-compulsive."

"Hardly. Your client left it behind, what sort of obsessive-compulsive would do that? The earlier patches are extensively sun bleached, so he's worn in abroad, in Peru."

"Peru?"

"This is a chullo. The classic headgear of Andes, it's made of alpaca."

"No."

"No?"

"Icelandic sheep wool. Similar, but very distinctive, if you know what you're looking for. I've written a blog on the varying tensile strengths of different natural fibers. You said he was anxious?"

"The bobble on the left side has been badly chewed, which shows he's a man of a nervous disposition, but..."

"But also a creature of habit, because he hasn't chewed the bobble on the right."

"Precisely".

"A quick sniff of the offending bobble tells us all we need to know about the state of his breath. Brilliant!"

"Elementary."

"But you've missed his isolation."

"I don't see it."

"Plain as day."

"Where?"

"There for all to see."

"Tell me."

"Plain as the nose..."

"Tell me!"

"Well, anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isn't in the habit of hanging around other people, is he?"

"Not at all. Maybe he just doesn't mind being different. He doesn't necessarily have to be isolated."

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry?"

"He's different, so what? Why would he mind? You're quite right.

Why would anyone mind?"

I laugh softly as Sherlock puts the hat on. Looking rather ridiculous as he does.

"I am not lonely, Sherlock."

"How would you know?"

Mycroft sighs as this comment from his little brother shocks and surprises him.

"Back to work, if you don't mind. Good morning."

"Right, back to work."

Sherlock looks over and winks at Mrs. Hudson who is in the kitchen and is also chuckling at Sherlock comments. Before he turns back and starts studying again. I stand and walk over to Sherlock wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Sherlock, talk to John."

"I've tried talking to him. He made his position quite clear. Even told me to Fuck off."

"Sherlock, everyone tells you to fuck off."

"Anyway, would you be able to help me with a case today, my dear?"

"No, sorry darling, my parents are in town and I promised them I'd have lunch with them."

Sherlock sighs.

"Alright."

"If you need someone to help you and you can't get John back on board, call Molly Hooper, I'm sure she'd be more then happy to help."

"Really?"

"Yes really. She's your friend Sherlock, she helped you fake your own death, I think she'll be okay with taking a few notes here and there."


	18. St James the Less

Chapter Eighteen

St James the Less.

I met my mother and father at a nearby cafe and endure the questions about Sherlock. Mostly "Why are you with him," "Does he treat you right?" and "Does he act as cold as he seems in interviews. But I suppose I can't blame my parents for being so protective of me, after all my last serious relationship ended up with him having an affair with my brother. But I think their biggest problem is that they haven't meet Sherlock in the almost five years we've been together. It's hard to believe I've been with this man for five years and we have only told the other we love each other a handful of times. But then again, we have a different way of showing our love and can truly be ourselves with the other.

Sadly, the idea that Sherlock and I haven't met the others extended family and were not planning on moving forward in a traditional way, as my parents feel as though we should. Honestly I didn't even want to marry my previous fiance but it was something I knew my family wanted, so I went along with it. But with Sherlock things are different. We both understand what the other one wants and we don't see the need in becoming man and wife, as Sherlock says, 'Marriage is the downfall of society.' Not that I disagree with him, but while I don't see the need in putting my love for Sherlock on a piece of paper, if he wanted to, I would do it in a heartbeat. Not because I feel like I'd need to, but because I would want to make him happy and if that meant being bound to him legally then so be it. Although that doesn't stop him from introducing me to clients as his wife when needed.

When I get back to the flat Sherlock isn't home yet so I head upstairs, saying hello to Mrs. Hudson as I pass her and settle into the flat for the evening, relaxing, while enjoying a book. A few hours after I got home, Sherlock walks into the door.

"Hello, Madison."

I hear his voice call out before I hear the crunch of the fish and chips he is eating.

"How was your meeting with your parents?"

I shrug, closing the book and standing up, stepping toward him as I reply.

"Oh, you know how parents are. They want to know if you are going to run away with someone else or if we are going to get married. And for some reason think that those two are linked."

I steal a chip out of his takeout container, as he looks at me almost as if he doesn't know how to respond to someone taking a bit of his food.

"What, do your parents think that if we don't getting married I'm doing to run off with someone else?"

I nod.

"Something like that."

Sherlock and I share a laugh before we hear Mary enter the flat stairs flat, Sherlock turns and steps out of the flat into the hall as she runs up the stairs.

"Mary? What's wrong?"

Mary takes her phone out of her pocket and shows it to Sherlock.

"Someone sent me this. At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip-code."

Sherlock takes the phone and I step next to him. Looking over the email.

Save souls now!

John or James Watson.

Sherlock takes a deep breath looking over the email with me.

"The first word, then every third."

I nod.

"Save… John… Watson…"

Saint or Sinner?

James or John?

The more is less?

"Saint James the Less."

Sherlock straightens himself up, dropping his chips onto the floor, as he races down the stairs, Mary and I following.

"Now!"

Mary is the second down the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

Sherlock rushes out in the street, Mary following close behind him, as I quickly grab my coat, over hearing Sherlock as I do.

"St Jame the Less. it's a church. Twenty minutes by car. Did you drive here?"

"Yes,"

Sherlock steps out into the middle of the street as I exit the main flat.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"This."

Sherlock puts his hand up and moves into the path of an approaching motorcycle. The driver slams on his brakes and skids to a halt just in time. Mary turns to as Sherlock somehow gets the driver and passenger off the bike and gets their helmets.

"Mary go with Sherlock, I'll be there as soon as I can."

Mary nods, hugging me quickly before jumping onto the back of the bike with Sherlock and the two head off. Oddly enough all I can think is, he really is running off with someone else. I laugh softly to myself and pull up the St James the Less church on my maps app, quickly figuring out the fastest way to get there on foot, and soon begin running in the direction of the church.

When I get to the church I see a giant bonfire is lite in the small square near the church and John, Mary, and Sherlock as all sitting on the ground about six to seven feet away from the fire. I rush over to the three of them,shoving past the group that has circled around them, I notice that Sherlock has some black smudges on his face, clearly having gone in to get John out of the fire. Since Mary and a few paramedics were around John, who seemed to be unconscious, I head over to Sherlock.

"What happened?"

"They put him in the fire."

Sherlock shakes his head, his voice shaky, as if he isn't sure what had happened.

"What?"

"They, who ever took John, put him in the fire."

I look over to John in shock, then back to Sherlock.

"I pulled him out but…"

"Sherlock, I'm sure John will be okay. I can all but promise he will."

"You can't promise something like that, Madison."

I sigh softly.

"Yes I can, you know why? Because I know John. What would he tell you if I had gotten hurt?"

"That you'd be fine and I need to be strong for you."

"Exactly, so get up. Because we not only have to be strong for John right now, but for Mary as well."

Sherlock nods and stands, pulling me into his arms as he does.

"Why do you two make me like this?"

"Make you like what?"

"Human."

After John and Mary are taken away in the ambulance Sherlock and I head back to the flat. Although after the night he's had he needs sleep Sherlock is doing nothing but trying to figure out who did this to John and I don't blame him. But he is running in circles with no information.


	19. Underground Network

Chapter Nineteen

Underground Network

The morning after the bonfire incident I wake to the sounds of conversation in the main room of the flat. I can hear Sherlock, a woman, and another man. I don't know who Sherlock would have over to the flat ever, let alone at 9:30 in the morning. After a few minutes of listening to the conversation to make sure I'm not just hearing things, I decide to get dressed. Nothing to fancy, but I've noticed by style has rather begun to match Sherlocks over the years. I've traded my sneakers in for flats or heels, my jeans for slacks or skirts, and my tees for dresses and formal blouses. I think it's mainly because Mycroft so bluntly pointed out that I looked like a teenage intern for the two detectives when I first met him during the Irene Adler case. While that comment didn't bother Sherlock in the least, I got me thinking about how one can be seen and how their fashion choices often indicate one's character, so I decided to make a change.

Once I put on a fairly new powder pink sundress that comes down to my knees and a pair of tan flats, I try my best look look as good as I can for getting ready in the bedroom Sherlock and I share. When I've done all I can, I head out, slowly, to the main area of the flat. Seeing Sherlock in his armchair, his eyes closed, and head back slightly, he almost looks like he's asleep. But he quickly opens his eyes when I knock softly on the sliding doors between the kitchen and sitting room. The doors had been pulled close, probably because Sherlock had not been expecting the guests and hadn't cleaned up his experiments in the kitchen. The room goes quiet as I poke my head in, looking over to the couch and seeing an older woman and man sitting on the couch, looking at me as if I had three heads. Sherlock jumps up out of his arm and steps towards me.

"Good morning, my dear."

Once he gets over to me, he gestures of me to come all the way into the room, kissing my cheek softly, before closing the door behind me. This only made the couple look at me even more oddly. I try to ignore it as I look up to Sherlock, who is smiling softly down at me, he had been going more and more affection since coming back from his two year long 'holiday.' Not that I mind it, but I mean kissing me in front of guests? What's next, holding my hand on the tube?

"Good morning, Sherlock, why didn't you wake me if we had guests?"

"You've working so hard to help me on the case last night, I thought you should sleep."

Finally the woman speaks up, standing up and stepping around the table in front of her.

"Sherlock, who is this?"

Sherlock turns to the woman as states, rather a matter of factly.

"Mother, father, this is my life partner Madison. Madison, these are my parents. Feel free to speak to them, but they understand very little."

I nudge him slightly with my elbow as he makes his last statement under his the woman is in front of me she pulls me into a large hug.

"Oh, I'm so happy that Sherlock found someone, You know we were rather worried that we would never get any grandchildren."

"Mother!"

Sherlock scolds her, looking at her rather shocked by the idea of children.

"What? That's what people do Sherlock, they find someone they love and start a family."

"That's what ordinary people do, Madison and I are not ordinary."

The woman shakes her head before continuing on with her thought.

"I can't wait to see what beautiful little ones you can Sherlock make."

"Uhh Mrs. Holmes, Sherlock and I…"

"Please call me mum."

"Uh… Sherlock and I are not planning on having children at the moment."

She sighs.

"Oh that's too bad. But anyway, as I was just telling Sherlock we just came from St Paul's, the Tower, but they weren't letting anyone in to Parliament, some big debate going on."

Thankfully for Sherlock and I, John enters the flat. The two of us look over to him and call out at the same time.

"John!"

John cringes when he hears it.

"You know I hate it when you two do that."

"No John, you hate it when Madison and I alternate between sentences."

"Much like this. Not when we speak in unisie."

John shakes his head and looks over to Sherlock parents.

"Are you two busy?"

Sherlock jumps at the chance to almost chase his parents from the flat

"No, no, no, they were just leaving."

"We were?"

"Yes."

"No, if you've got a case…"

John steps back as if he is going to leave the flat.

"No, not a case, no no no."

As Sherlock pushes his parents from the flat, his mother turns to me.

"It was lovely to meet you, Madison. I can't tell you how glad I am that he's found someone, especially a lovely young woman like yourself."

"Bye bye."

Sherlock gets the two out and closes the door before I can respond. Turning to John, who has several cuts all over his face from last night .

"Sorry about that."

"Those were your parents?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Madison meeting your parents, that's a big step isn't it?"

"It's not like it was planned they didn't even really know about her until today."

"Well… that is not what I thought of when I thought of your parents. They're so… ordinary."

"It's a cross I have to bear."

"Did they know, too?"

"Hmm? Know what?"

"That you spent the last two years playing hide and seek."

"Maybe."

"Ah! So that's why they weren't at the funeral."

I step forward toward John.

"John, we cannot apologize enough for not telling out."

"But trust me when I say I am sorry, John."

The three of us stand in silence as John looks around the flat, a little frustrated, before Sherlock breaks the silence.  
"See you've shaved it off, then."

"Yeah, wasn't working for me."

"Mm, I'm glad."

"What, you didn't like it?"

I chuckle softly.

"No one liked it John."

Sherlock grins as he looks over to me, as I sit in his armchair and the boys move in front of the fireplace.

"No, I prefer my doctors clean-shaven."

"Not a sentence you hear everyday."

I laugh softly at this last comment and both of the boys look to me confused.

"What?"

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just. Those kinds of comments that make people think you are together."

John scoffs as he sits back in his old chair, grunting a little. I can imagine he is probably still rather sore. I stand so Sherlock can have his chair, before sitting on the arm of the chair.

"How are you feeling?"

"Yeah, not bad. Bit… smoked. But have to say I expected that question out of Madison, not you Sherlock."

"Right."

"Last night…. Who did that? And why did they target me?"

"We don't know."

"Is it someone trying to get to you through me? Is it something to do with this terrorist thing you talked about? And why wouldn't they go after Madison if that was the case?"

"I don't know. I can't see the pattern. It's too nebulous. Why would an agent give his life to tell us something incredibly insignificant. That's what's strange"

"Give his life?"

John looks between the two of us confused, as Sherlock sighs.

"According to Mycroft. There's an underground network planning an attack on London."

I nod.

"And that's all we know."

Sherlock looks down before pointing over the the wall that has several pictures hung up on it. Before standing and stepping toward it.

"These are my rats, John."

John looks to me confused.

"Rats?"

I gesture for John to walk over to Sherlock as the two of us stand, and Sherlock sighs softly.

"My markers: agents, low-lifes, people who might find themselves arrested or their diplomatic immunity suddenly rescinded. If one of them starts to acting suspiciously, we know something's up. Five of them arte behaving perfectly normally, but the sixth..."

Sherlock points to a photo on the wall as John walks over to him.

"I know him, don't I?"

I nod, knowing exactly who is acting off, seeing as how I've been hearing about this all night.

"It's Lord moran, peer of the realm, Minister of Overseas Development. Pillar of the establishment."

"Yes!"

John looks over to me and then back to the picture.

Sherlock nods, as he continues my thought.

"He's been working for North Korea since 1996."

"What?"

"He's the big rat. Rat number one. And he's just done something very suspicious indeed."

"Odd as in how."

I sigh softly, knowing Sherlock will be going off the walls in a moment and his brain won't slow for a few hours.

"He disappeared from a railway car."

"He what?"

Sherlock grabbed his computer and pulls up the video.

"He disappeared off the tube line."

John watches the security footage.

"Yeah that's… odd. There's nowhere he could have got off?"

I shake my head.

"Not according to the maps."

Sherlock steps away and paces around the room.

"There's something… something, something I'm missing, something staring me in the face."

Sherlock quickly turns to the wall, before his phone goes off. John continues as Sherlock looks at his phone.

"Any idea who they are… this underground network? Itelligence must have an a-list of the omst obvious ones."

Sherlock whispers softly.

"Our rat's just come out of his den."

John doesn't hear him and continues.

"Al-Qaeda; the IRA have been getting restless again… maybe they're gonna make an appearance."

Sherlock turns and shouts.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! I've been a idiot… a blind idiot!"

"What?"

John and I look up at him surprised.

"Oh that's good. That could be brilliant."

I step toward Sherlock.

"Sherlock, honey, our brains aren't running that fast right now. You may have to explain."

"Mycroft's intelligence… it's not nebulous at all. It's specific. Incredibly specific."

"What do you mean?"

John looks between the two of us, as I finally understand what Sherlock is talking about.

"It's not an underground network."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"It's underground."

I nod looking over the video again.

"Look… Secen cars leave Westminster… but only six cars arrive at St James' Park."

John shakes his head.

"But that's… it's impossible."

"Moran didn't disappear… the entire tube compartment did. The drive must have diverted the train and then detached the last car."

"Detached it where? The two of you said there was nothing between those stations."

Sherlock nods.

"Not on maps, but once you eliminate all the other factors, the only thing remaining must be the truth. That carriage vanished, so it must be somewhere."

"But why? Why detach it in the first place?"

I shake my head, as Sherlock and I begin to think out loud.

"It vanishes between St James' Park and Westminster."

"Lord Moran vanishes, you're kidnapped and nearly burned to death at a fireworks par…."

Sherlock and I stop and stare at each other, coming to the same conclusion at the same time.

"John, what day is it?"

"Uhh… November the… My god."

As John realizes what's going on Sherlock turns and goes back to his wall.

"Lord Moran, he's a peer of the realm. Normally he's sit in the House. Tonight there's an all-night sitting to vote on the new anti-terrorism bill."

I step up next to Sherlock.

"But he won't be there. Not tonight. Not the fifth of November."

Sherlock grabs a large map off the wall and lays it out of the table in the kitchen, as much as he can. It's a map of the tube system, the three of us look over it, as Sherlock calls someone on his mobile phone

"There has to be. Check again."

John points to a place on the map.

"Look… this whole area is a big mess of old and new stuff. Charing Cross is made up of bits of older stations like Trafalgar Square, Strand…"

"No, it's none of those. We've accounted for those."

Sherlock leans over the map, looking it over internally, listing off different street names.

"St. Margaret's Street, Bridge Street, Sumatra Road, Parliament Street…"

He stops and stands, listening to the man on the other end of the phone, putting the man on speaker so we can hear him as well.

"Sumatra Road. You mentioned Sumatra Road, Mr. Holmes. There is something. I knew it rang a bell. Where is it?"

He mutters and it sounds like he's digging for something.

"There was a station down there."

I sigh.

"Then why isn't it on the maps?"

"Cause it was closed before it ever opened.

"What?"

"They built the platforms, even the staircase, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the station to the surface."

Sherlock nods.

"It's right underneath the Palace of Westminster."

I cover my mouth with my hand in shock, while John looks between Sherlock and I.

"And so what's down there? A Bomb?"

John takes moment to gage our reactions.

"Oh…"

Sherlock and John quickly head out of the flat, but not before Sherlock kisses me deeply.

"Stay here."

I sigh.

"Be safe."

The boys run out and down the stairs, as I rub my hand along my collarbone, almost in shock.


	20. Find Him a Case

It had been a few days since John and Sherlock had run out of the flat to stop a bombing, successfully of course. I don't know how but I had managed to talk Sherlock into having a wedding announcement party for John and Mary at the flat, to make up for him bargain in when John had planned on proposing. Of course, we only invited a handful of people to the party. Mary is on the couch, Mrs. Hudson is in the sitting chair next to the sofa, Greg is sitting in John's chair, and John is standing behind him, while Sherlock and I are standing beside the desk. Sherlock seems to be zoning out, but I am having a lovely conversation with Mary and Mrs. Hudson, while we are all enjoying some champagne.

"Do you have a date yet Mary?"

"Well, we thought May."

Mrs. Hudson smiles brightly.

"Oh! A Spring wedding."

Mary nods.

"Once we actually get engaged, we were interrupted last time."

She looks up to Sherlock as she, John, and I share a laugh.

"He may not say it, but he is sorry about it. He had no idea John had moved on so quickly."

John sighs and gets flustered.

"We were not... You two were together."

Mary and I laugh softly, as Greg raises his glass.

"Well, I can't wait."

"You two will be there won't you?"

Mary looks up to Sherlock and I. Sherlock shakes his head as I shrug my shoulders.

"Weddings... Not really my thing."

I chuckle.

"If it were we'd be married by now."

"Don't count on that Madison, marriage is the downfall of our society."

I sigh softly and look over to him.

"Oh? But you will live with me for the rest of your life?"

Sherlock shrugs his shoulders.

"As far as I can tell we will be together until I do something to upset you can cause you to no longer wish to see me, or one of us dies on a case. So, why would we need a document and some rings to show we are together?"

I step toward him and tease him.

"What about just the rings?"

"Why?"

"Because while you may not realize it you are an attractive man."

"And woman don't know that I am with someone already."

At this point I am standing in front of him, looking up to him, the two of us smirking at each other.

"Exactly."

Obviously, everyone else in the room is a little confused, to Sherlock and I this is saying we will be together for the foreseeable future. However, I can imagine this looks and sounds rather odd to someone who doesn't understand how our minds work. I can hear Greg make a quiet comment to John, as Sherlock and I gaze into the other's eyes.

"What just happened?"

John sighs.

"That's how they say I love you, I believe."

Before I can turn and reply to John's comment, the door opens and Molly walks in and behind her a tall young man with curly light brown hair. As the two enter the flat I notice that the man is dressed a lot like Sherlock normally is, right down to his pointed toe shoes. As I turn I look over to John, who has noticed the same thing, looking to me to confirm I am seeing what he is.

"Hello everyone."

"Hey, Molly."

"This is Tom. Tom this is everyone."

John and I turn slightly to Sherlock who is looking out the window, not even looking at the couple. Tom waves to everyone looking around like he is trying to place names and stories to the different faces.

"Hi."

Everyone else greets the two of them. Sherlock finally turns around and heads to the door, looking to the ground before stopping in front of the young man, looking up to him and stops, looking at him as if he is looking into a mirror. John and I glance at each other and chuckle softly before the two exit the flat to go work on their newest case. As the door closes I hear Molly make a comment that she's moved on from Sherlock, which given how Tom looks I find rather comical.

Months had passed and winter had come and was nearing its end. Since the wedding was to take place in a month John and Mary were putting the finishing touches on the wedding. Somehow they got Sherlock and I to help with it. Sherlock is so into the details you'd think he was planning our wedding, although I suppose this is the closest we'll ever get to planning an actual wedding. John and I were taking a break from the planning while Sherlock and Mary were looking over a cardboard 3D model of the reception venue.

"Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48."

"But the rehearsal isn't for another two weeks. Just calm down."

"Calm? I am calm. I'm extremely calm."

I sigh softly, taking a sip of my tea.

"Yeah, but you're really not darling."

Mary shakes her head looking over RSVP cards.

"Let's get back to the reception, come on. John's cousin. Top table?"

Sherlock takes the card from her as she hands it to him, shaking his head.

"Hmm... hates you. Can't even bear to think about you."

"Seriously?"

"Second class post, cheap card, bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp, three attempts at licking. She's obviously unconsciously retaining saliva."

"Ah. let's stick her by the bogs"

Mary leans in and lowers her voice.

"Who else hates me?"

Sherlock pulls out a list of names, that is front and back.

"Oh, great, thanks."

John is looking over his phone, laid back in his chair.

"Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting."

Mary and Sherlock don't stop their roll.

"Table four.."

"Done."

J

ohn chuckles.

"My husband is three people."

"Table five."

Sherlock stops looking over the guest list.

"Major James Sholto. Who he?"

"Oh, John's old commanding officer. I don't think he's coming."

"He'll be there."

"Well, he needs to RSVP, then."

"He'll be there. My husband is three people. It's interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin."

Sherlock stands.

"Identical triplets, one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes."

Sherlock squats down and reaches under the coffee table pulling out a tray with two serviettes folded into different shapes.

"Swan or Sydney Opera House?"

Mary turns in her chair.

"Where'd you learn to do that?!"

"Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation..."

"Fibbing, Sherlock."

"I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of..."

"I'm not John, I can tell when you're fibbing."

Sherlock sighs.

"Okay, I learned in on YouTube."

I laugh softly as I stand.

"He stayed up all night practicing."

Mary nods.

"Opera house, please. Ooh... hang on. I'm buzzing."

Mary pulls out her phone, answering a phone call.

"Hello? Oh, Hi, Beth."

She stands and walks into the kitchen. John stands soon after she leaves.

"Actually, if that's Beth, It's probably for me too. Hang on."

When John leaves the room, I stand and walk over to Sherlock, my arms crossed. As he stands to look to me.

"What?"

"Why are you getting so worried about this? You and Mary have everything under control, there is no need to stress, darling."

"What do you mean? I'm not worried."

I chuckle softly.

"Yes, you are. Why? Are you worried that if this day doesn't go perfectly John and Mary will just disappear on us?"

Sherlock scoffs, staying quiet.

"Sherlock, you and John are best friends, nothing will change that. Why don't you find him a case, yeah? One that will challenge you both, show him it can still be like the good old days, even though you two are both have a ball and chain now."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"My dear, if you were a ball and chain you wouldn't be here right now."

I laugh softly as John comes into the room.

"Hey Madison, Mary needs to talk to you about something."

"Oh, okay."

I nod and walk into the kitchen as John walks into the sitting room.

"Hey, what's up?"

"The boys need a case and they won't find one if we are in the room."

I nod.

"I agree. Think they'll find something to occupy them long enough?"

"God, I hope so."

After a few minutes, Mary and I walk back into the sitting room. John and Sherlock stand from the table quickly and get ready to leave. John steps toward Mary kissing her cheek.

"We're just going to... I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose, er, socks."

Sherlock, however, gives an answer as John does.

"Ties."

Mary and I look between the two.

"Why don't we go with socks?"

John nods.

"Yeah."

He steps to Mary as I step to Sherlock, kissing him on the cheek, whispering to him.

"See you found him a case, you boys will go and have fun before John's wedding and you'll have more cases after."

Sherlock nods as he and John leave the flat. After taking a few steps out, John turns around and pokes his head back in.

"Are you two okay with that?"

Mary and I nod, looking back between each other.

"Uh, yeah. I need Mary to help me pick out a dress."

I hear Sherlock shout from the hall.

"Best avoid light purples. Wouldn't want to match the bridesmaids."

I sigh softly and glance over to Mary as the boys leave the flat and head off to their case. Before long Mary and I also head out, since I really do really need her help to pick out a dress for the wedding. I have a few dresses that I would think about wearing, but they are all dresses I've had since I met Sherlock and I'd like to see his reaction to seeing me in something new.


	21. Stag Night

Chapter Twenty-One

Stag Night

It had been about a week since the boys had started on their case and they were getting ready for their Stag Night. I know Sherlock had gone to Molly to ask for help figuring out what amount each should drink and at what rate to keep from becoming sick, but keep a nice buzz. I walk into the sitting room as Sherlock and John are getting ready to leave for the bars. Sherlock had planned almost a pub crawl for the two of them. He wants them to have a drink of every street they've found a body. To the normal person having found enough bodies to do a pub crawl would be alarming, but I think Sherlock would be disappointed if he hadn't.

"So where are we going again?"

John asks pulling on his jacket.

"I told you, we are going to have a drink in a bar on every street we have found a body."

John shakes his head, a little confused by Sherlock plan. I walk over to Sherlock once I am in the sitting room. Sherlock is standing in the middle of the room since his coat is downstairs he is waiting for John to get ready.

"John, that is as close to sentiment as he gets, take is and don't complain."

"I am plenty sentimental."

John and I laugh softly as Sherlock looks between the two of us, confused as to what is so funny.

"You really aren't though, Sherlock."

"Take the word of the one woman who has stayed with you this long. You really aren't."

Sherlock sighs, before looking over to me.

"What are your plans for tonight my dear?"

I shrug.

"I'm probably just going to take a hot bath and go to bed. Maybe I'll get a good night sleep since you won't be here working on a case."

"I thought you enjoyed helping me on the cases?" 

"I do, but I also enjoy sleep, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolls his eyes, before kissing my cheek, as he and John make their way out of the flat. Once they are gone I head back into the bathroom and begin taking my bath. It is very relaxing to have the flat to myself for a night. I love Sherlock but he can be a bit much at times, but I suppose every relationship has their problems and even normal couples get to be too much for each other every now and then. While Sherlock likes to think otherwise, we are just like every other couple in many ways.

Later that night I am getting ready to crawl into bed, I hear laughing coming from the sitting room. I look over at the clock and it is only 8 o'clock in the evening.

"Surely the boys aren't back already, they've only been gone for two hours."

The laughter continues as I walk out into the sitting area. Finding Sherlock and John sitting in their armchairs, with pieces of paper taped to their heads, bo have a glass of whiskey in hand and are clearly drunk. As I listen to the two of them I realize they are playing the Rizla Game, I can hear John asking a question.

"Am I a vegetable?"

"You, or the thing?"

Sherlock points to the paper on John's forehead, as the two snigger.

"Funny!" 

"Thank you."

"Come on."

"No, you're not a vegetable."

Sherlock is slurring his words so badly it is hard to understand him. I have to admit it is kind of funny to see him like this.

"Ah… Madison, what are you doing up?"

I sigh softly, trying not the laugh at the two of them.

"It's only 8 o'clock, the two of you haven't been awake long each of me to get to sleep."

The two laugh softly, clearly enjoying themselves. Maybe I underestimated the number of pubs they were going to. John turns back to Sherlock and sighs. From what I could see before John turns around I can see he was 'Madonna,' written on the piece of paper stuck to his forehead, Sherlock has Sherlock Holmes written on his.

"It's your go."

Sherlock sits back in his chair, while I am leaned against the doorframe, rather enjoying this little show before me.

"Err… am I human?"

"Sometimes."

"Can't have sometimes. Has to be, um... "

Sherlock struggles to pull himself up a bit in the chair.

"Yes, you're human."

"And am I a man?"

"Yep."

"Tall?"

"Not as tall as people think."

"Hmm, nice?"

"Ish. there is only one person I've seen you be nice to for a long period of time."

"Clever?"

"I'd say so."

"You would? Mmm, am I important?"

"To some people."

"Do people… like me?"

"Er, no, they don't. You tend to rub them up the wrong way."

"Okay. Am I the current King of England."

"Are you…?"

John cackles with laughter, as I chuckle from the doorway, as the two continue their little game.

"You know we don't have a king?"

"Don't we?"

"No, your go."

John sits forward, on the edge of the table almost falling off the chair, reaching forward to brace himself with one hand on Sherlock's right knee. He pushes himself back a little, then he and Sherlock look down at his hand. John pulls it away and holds both his hands out, shrugging.

"I don't mind."

John takes a moment to think before asking his question.

"Am I a woman?"

Sherlock snorts laughter, laughing for a few moments.

"What?"

"Yes."

"Am I… pretty?"

Sherlock sits forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

"Er… er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models."

"Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?"

Sherlock leans forward and squints his eyes to try and see the Rizla.

"I don't know who you are. I don't know who you're supposed to be."

"You picked the name!"

"I picked it at random from the papers."

"You really aren't getting the hang of this game are you, Sherlock?" 

He shrugs before continuing on to his turn.

"So I am human, I'm not as tall as people think I am… I'm, I'm nice-ish… Clever, important to come people, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way. Got it."

"Go on, then."

"I'm you, aren't I?"

I laugh softly from the doorway, shaking my head.

"I'm gonna go to bed."

Before I can get too far Sherlock stands and hugs me tightly from behind.

"Good night. Madison. I love you."

I laugh softly.

"I love you too. If you get home tonight sleep on the couch, you reek of booze."

He shrugs and shakes his head, letting me go.

"Good night, Sherlock."

Once back in the room, it doesn't take long before me to hear the boys leave the flat again just as I figured that would. After they are gone and the flat is quiet again, I quickly fall asleep, only to be woken by my mobile phone going off. As I open my sleepy eyes and grab the phone, I can see that it is a call from Greg Lestrade.

"Why is Greg calling at 7 in the morning."

I answer the phone and try not to sounds like he had woken me.

"Hello?"

"Morning, Madison. Uh… I'm sorry to call you this early but it seems that you're boys have gotten themselves arrested last night and are in the drunk tank. How I have managed to get them out but I thought you would like to know where they were."

"You make it sound like they are mine."

"Well to some extent they are."

"I guess, anyway, thank you, Greg. Do you need me down there to get them?"

"No, I thought you'd be worried when Sherlock didn't come home." 

"Honestly, I wouldn't have noticed yet. I'm still in bed and the bedroom door is locked since I told Sherlock to sleep on the couch since he reeked of alcohol."

"Ahh… That's my girl"

Greg laughs over the phone before saying goodbye and hanging up. I stretch up before falling back into the bed, trying to get the energy to get up. Over the next week or so, Sherlock and John try their best to work on a new case. The case of the Mayfly Man, as Sherlock called it. From what I've gathered there are women who think they are dating ghosts, why Sherlock took this case I don't know why since he doesn't believe in ghosts. Maybe it is to have something to do, leading up to John's wedding and to prove to these women that there are no ghost.


	22. Wedding Day

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

 **Wedding Day.**

 **Sherlock had sent the days leading up to John and Mary's wedding either playing his violin or trying to solve the MayFly case. He is clearly stressed about it, even though he won't admit it. Even on the morning of the wedding I can hear Sherlock playing in the sitting room, once I get up and put on my dressing gown I walk out into the sitting around and see that Sherlock is not playing, but rather dancing, as if he is dancing with someone else, while a stereo plays a recorded version of the song he had been working on for the past few weeks. After watching from the kitchen doorway for a moment I call out to him.**

 **"What are you doing?"**

 **Sherlock stops in his tracks and turns to me, before turning back and turning off the stereo.**

 **"Road testing."**

 **"I thought you were playing."**

 **"I was, I recorded it so that I can make sure John and Mary can dance to it for their first dance."**

 **"Is that your wedding gift to them?"**

 **"I suppose it is."**

 **"Well, would you like help road testing it? Kind of hard to test it by yourself."**

 **Sherlock shrugs and motions for me to go over to him. Once I am in the middle of the sitting room with him, he starts the recording from the beginning. Placing a hand on my waist, as I place one on his shoulder, and he takes my hand in his before we start to dance the Waltz. Stepping and slowly spinning around the small clear area in the sitting room. Before long the door to the hall opens and Mrs. Hudson steps in, Sherlock glances to her over his shoulder, as the two of us turn so his back is to the door.**

 **"Shut up, Mrs. Hudson."**

 **"I haven't said a word."**

 **Sherlock sighs as we continue dancing.**

 **"You're formulating a question. It's physically painful watching you thinking."**

 **"I thought it was you playing."**

 **He and I stop dancing before he steps over to turn off the stereo on the table.**

 **"It was me playing. I am composing."**

 **Mrs. Hudson smiles at the two of us.**

 **"You two were dancing."**

 **"We were road-testing."**

 **"You were what?"**

 **Sherlock turns to her and the tray of tea she had sit on the table next to John's chair.**

 **"Why are you here?"**

 **"I'm bringing you your morning tea. You're not usually awake."**

 **Sherlock sits in his chair.**

 **"You bring us tea in the morning."**

 **I scoff softly.**

 **"She does every morning Sherlock, where did you think it came from? I mean I wake up around the same time you do, so I couldn't be the one making it."**

 **Sherlock shrugs.**

 **"I don't know. I just thought it sort of happened."**

 **Mrs. Hudson shakes her head.**

 **"Your mother has a lot to answer for."**

 **She hands a cup to Sherlock and I.**

 **"Thank you."**

 **"Mm. I know I have a list. Mycroft has a file."**

 **Mrs. Hudson laughs and sits in John's chair as I sit on the arm of Sherlock's.**

 **"So. It's the big day, then!"**

 **Sherlock sips his tea.**

 **"What big day?"**

 **I sigh softly.**

 **"The wedding. John and Mary are getting married."**

 **"Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, fo on a short holiday and then carry on living together. What's big about that?"**

 **Mrs. Hudson sighs.**

 **"It changes people, marriage."**

 **"Mmm… No, it doesn't."**

 **"Well, you wouldn't understand 'cause you and Madison don't see the need for a marriage."**

 **"You husband was executed for double murder. You're hardly an advert for companionship."**

 **"Marriage changes you as a person, in ways that you can't imagine."**

 **I sigh softly and shake my head.**

 **"I'm gonna go get ready. You should too before too long, Sherlock."**

 **I stand finishing my tea quickly, looking down at Sherlock.**

 **"You're probably right. I will once I finish my tea."**

 **I nod, placing my tea on the tray Mrs. Hudson had brought before heading back into the bedroom. Sherlock and I have out outfits for today hung up on the closet door. I had found a nice peach pink dress with cap sleeves and a swiping neckline across my collarbone, paired with a nice pair of earrings, and nice dress heels. Once I get into the room I begin curling my hair and putting my makeup and perfume on before putting the dress on. It's a little odd for me to wear this much makeup. I normally wear some mascara and foundation, but that's it. Today I have eyeshadow, blush, lipstick, and eyeliner on as well.**

 **As I put on my dress the bedroom door opens and Sherlock walks in, stopping when he sees me.**

 **"What?"**

 **"Nothing. Would you like some help?"**

 **I had been reaching back to zip up my dress since it is easier to zip a dress with help, I nod.**

 **"Please, thank you."**

 **Sherlock walks up behind me and zips up the dress, turning me around once it is zipped and looking me up and down.**

 **"You look lovely."**

 **I smile softly.**

 **"I thought beauty was a concept based on childhood impressions and role models."**

 **Sherlock takes a deep breath.**

 **"Well lucky for you, mine make you look absolutely stunning."**

 **I chuckle softly and lean forward, giving him a soft kiss.**

 **"Who knew John and Mary's wedding would make you so affectionate."**

 **"I'm always affectionate toward you."**

 **I give him a rather unconvinced look.**

 **"In private….. When I remember to be."**

 **I nod and laugh softly.**

 **"Exactly, now you should get dressed the best man can't be late."**

 **Sherlock nods as I move to exit the room.**

 **"I'll be out in a moment."**

 **I don't have to wait in the sitting room for long. Sherlock is out of the bedroom, dressed and ready to go in about fifteen minutes. Once he is the two of us head out of the flat with Mrs. Hudson and makes our way to the church. Mrs. Hudson and I are seated together and enjoy the lovely service. John and Mary exchange either vows, and Sherlock only rolled his eyes a handful of times. But that's good considering I thought that his eyes would be an on a permit loop throughout the service. After the Service, the wedding party and some guests take some pictures outside. Mary was even nice enough to ask the photographer to take a photo of Sherlock and myself. However, Mary's maid of honor concerns me, I believe her name is Janine, and she keeps looking Sherlock over like he's a piece of meat, and is clearly flirting with him.**

 **Once we are all in the reception hall the wedding party enters and begin talking to the guests. Once Sherlock is away from everyone else and standing alone I quickly walk over to him and kiss him deeply, placing a hand on his cheek and shoulder as I do. Of course, Sherlock is shocked up this sudden outburst of public affection on my behalf.**

 **"Madison, what are you doing?"**

 **I shrug.**

 **"What can I, romance in the air."**

 **Sherlock chuckles.**

 **"No, you are jealous of Janine flirting with me, aren't you?"**

 **"Why do you think that?"**

 **"Madison, while you do operate on a higher level then everyone here, other then myself, you are still very attached to your emotions. Given that you saw Janine flirting with me and you clearly made sure she could see us before you came over and started kissing me."**

 **I shrug.**

 **"Maybe I just wanted to kiss the man I love."**

 **Sherlock chuckles softly.**

 **"Maybe a combination of the two."**

 **I nod and smile before Sherlock leans in and kisses me softly.**

 **"So who was that little boy who hugged you before coming in there with his mother?"**

 **"Archie, I had to help get him to do everything he needed for the wedding and the two of us bounded."**

 **"Oh, that's sweet."**

 **"Yes, maybe if he knew our children would be something like him we'd be able to talk seriously about having them."**

 **I laugh softly.**

 **"Sherlock our children will be like no other children in the world."**

 **"Oh, and why do you say that?"**

 **John walks up to us having heard the last part of the conversation.**

 **"Because they'd be the children of the two smartest people in this room."**

 **I laugh softly as Sherlock shrugs before John continues on with what he had come over to us for.**

 **"Sherlock, it's about time to start the dinner and your speech."**

 **I chuckle.**

 **"Was Greg able to help with that, after you pulled him away from his case?"**

 **"He did what he could. But I suppose I could have waited to ask him for help."**

 **"Or found a way to make it sound less urgent."**

 **Sherlock shrugs before he and John head to the front table and I head to my seat. I am sitting with Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Tom. Once dinner is served and finished, the wedding toasts begin. Well, I don't know about toasts, so much as Sherlock's best man speech. He stands and takes a deep breath looking around the room, clearly a little uncomfortable with speaking in front of so many people. When his eyes land on me I smile softly and he seems to relax slightly.**

 **"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends… and… erm. Others."**

 **He stops and blinks. There is an awkward pause.**

 **"Er.. w…"**

 **John whispers something to Sherlock, as he jolts out of his blankness. Pulling a pile of telegrams out of his pocket. John and Sherlock both clear their throats and looks to the guests.**

 **"Right. Um… First things first. Telegrams."**

 **He begins to read off the telegrams very quickly.**

 **"Well, they're not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don't know why. Wedding tradition. Because we don't have enough of that already apparently. To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I'm unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford. To john and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big… big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted. Mary… Lots of love… poppet."**

 **A few guests giggle at Sherlock saying poppet. Before he continues.**

 **"Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from CAM. Wish your family could have seen this. Um, special day, very special day, love, love, love, lo, a bit of a theme you get the general gist. People are basically fond."**

 **A light chuckle fills the room for a moment. Once it is gone Sherlock looks over to John, who is sitting next to him.**

 **"John Watson. My friend, John Watson. John. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn't realize he was asking me. When finally I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and… surprised. I explained to him that I'd never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which as, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he'd placed in me... And indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being… moved by it. It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud."**

 **The guests and wedding party laugh, as Sherlock stands there a little embarrassed. He reaches into his jacket pocket, clearing his throat and takes out a handful of cue cards, looking at each of them and putting it onto the talk as he talks to himself. Before getting to the card he needed, and looking back to the guests, before looking down at John and continuing.**

 **"I'm afraid, John, I can't congratulate you. All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world."**

 **As Sherlock starts his rant I place a hand on my forehead, shaking my hand.**

 **"Today, we honor the death, watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time, one feels certain, our entire species. But anyway, let's talk about John. If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice – it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel. and contrast is, after all, God's own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation … or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot. The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous ... unaware of the beautiful … and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. But that changed when I met you John, and the love of my life, Madison. So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. John, I am a ridiculous man ... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I'm apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss ...so sorry again about that last one … so know this: today you sit in a room the woman you have made your wife and the two people you have saved – in short, the three people who love you most in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary and Madison as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that."**

 **Of course, due to this gesture, a few guests in the reception hall begin to get a little emotional, myself included. Sherlock is on such a roll however, he doesn't stop.**

 **"Ah, yes. Now onto some funny stories about John …"**

 **He stops as he looks up and sees everyone is getting emotional.**

 **"What's wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John? Did I do it wrong?"**

 **John stands shaking his head, pulling Sherlock into a hug. Sherlock hugs him back, a little confused that John is hugging him, but soon John sits and Sherlock continues.**

 **"So, on to some funny stories about John. If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would … be better. On we go. So, for funny stories ... one has to look no further than John's blog. The record of our time together. Of course, he does tend to romanticise things a bit, but then, you know ... he's a romantic. We've tackled some strange cases: the Hollow Client .. the Poison Giant … We've had some frustrating cases … ... 'touching' cases … and of course I have to mention the elephant in the room. But we want something ... very particular for this special day, don't we? But we want something ... very particular for this special day, don't we? The Bloody Guardsman. Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He'd stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess? Come on, come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this. Scotland Yard, got a theory?"**

 **Greg looks up at him and clears his throat.**

 **"Er, um, if the, uh, if the if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um … grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could-could crawl in there. So, yeah, we're loo... we're looking for a-a-a-a dwarf."**

 **I shake my head, as Sherlock comments.**

 **"Brillant."**

 **"Really?"**

 **"No. Next!"**

 **Tom whispers softly to Molly.**

 **"He stabbed himself."**

 **"Hello? Who was that? Tom. Got a theory?"**

 **Tom stands, nervously swaying from foot to foot for a moment.**

 **"Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone; broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger."**

 **"A meat dagger."**

 **"Yes."**

 **Molly whispers through gritted teeth.**

 **"Sit down."**

 **"No, There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson – who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life. There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know – and on top of that, he actually knows how to do stuff. except wedding planning and serviettes – he's rubbish at those."**

 **"True!"**

 **John lowers his head and chuckles with embarrassment, and the guests laugh.**

 **"The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I've ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I'm not just here to praise John – I'm also here to embarrass him, so let's move on to some …"**

 **Greg shakes his head as if he's taken back, but Sherlock not telling everyone how the cases ended.**

 **"No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?"**

 **Sherlock shrugs.**

 **"I'm afraid I don't know. We didn't solve that one. That's … It can happen sometimes. It's very ... very disappointing. Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night. Of course, there's hours of material here, but I've cut it down to the really good bits."**

 **He takes a deep breath before continuing.**

 **"Married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity … and instead of endless nights in watching the telly or going to barbecues with awful dreadful boring people he couldn't stand, he used his wits, cleverness, and powers of disguise … to play the field. He was … On second thoughts I probably should have told you about the Elephant in the Room. However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that's what made me special – quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that – I should know. He's saved mine so many times and in so many ways. This blog is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures of murder, mystery, and mayhem. But from now on, there's a new story – a bigger adventure. Ladies and gentlemen, pray to charge your glasses and be upstanding. Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is …"**

 **Sherlock raises his glass and stops in his tracks as the photographer snaps several photos of him, but he doesn't react to the popping flashbulb. The glass Sherlock had been holding fell to the floor, shattering on the tiles. He tries to continue but he is shaky and out of sorts.**

 **"Ooh, sorry. I …"**

 **The Master of Ceremonies hands him another glass.**

 **"Thank you, yes. Thank you, yes. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Raising glasses and standing up. Very good. Thank you. And down again."**

 **Sherlock gestures for everyone to sit again. Putting his glass down on the table and straightens up.**

 **"Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech – get off early, leave 'em laughing. Wise advice I'll certainly try to bear in mind. But for now …"**

 **He puts one hand on the table and quickly jumps over to the other side. The guests gasped in surprise. As he begins to pace up and down the aisle between the group of tables.**

 **"Part two. Part two is more action-based. I'm gonna ... walk around, shake things up a bit. Who'd go to a wedding? That's the question. Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding? Well, everyone. Weddings are great! Love a wedding. And John's great, too! Haven't said that enough. Barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his ... jumpers … ... and he can cook. Does ... a ... thing ... the thing with peas … ... once. Might not be peas. Might not be him. But he's got a great singing voice ... or somebody does."**

 **John and I are both looking down with our heads in our hands, as Sherlock continues.**

 **"Ahh, too many, too many, too many, too many! Sorry. Too many jokes about John! Now, er … Where was I? Ah, yes … Speech! Speech. Let's talk about …"**

 **It's clear that he is bouncing back and forth from his mind palace to the real world as I look up at him in almost horror.**

 **"... murder. Sorry, did I say 'murder'? I meant to say 'marriage' – but, you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, and it's over when one of them's dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though. Janine!"**

 **Sherlock walks behind one of the male guests. What about this one? Acceptably hot? More importantly, his girlfriend's wearing brand-new uncomfortable underwear and hasn't bothered to pick this thread off the top of his jacket … or point out the grease smudge on the back of his neck. Currently, he's going home alone."**

 **I roll my eyes before glancing up and see that he is rapidly texting on his phone.**

 **"Also, he's a comics and sci-fi geek. They're always tremendously grateful – really put the hours in. Geoff, the gents."**

 **Greg doesn't answer him but looks to him confused.**

 **"The loos, please."**

 **"Why?"**

 **His phone beeps and he pulls it out of his pocket.**

 **"I don't know maybe it's your turn."**

 **He jerks his head towards the door again, grimacing. Greg looks at his phone and the new text message.**

 **"Yeah, actually, now you mention it …"**

 **He stands up. Sherlock pockets his own phone.**

 **John sighs.**

 **"Sherlock, any chance of a – an end date for this speech? Gotta cut the cake."**

 **While Greg heads out of the door, Sherlock smiles widely and dances down the aisle, gesturing dramatically.**

 **"Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can't stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once, Vatican Cameos."**

 **As Sherlock says Vatican Cameos, John and I straighten up and understand why he is going on this little rant. Sherlock roars loudly with frustration and rage and slaps himself hard on the right cheek, then his left.**

 **"No! No! Not you! Not you!."**

 **Sherlock calms down and lowers his hands a little to point his fingers towards the top table.**

 **"You."**

 **Walking towards him, now pointing at him with just one hand.**

 **"It's always you. John Watson, you keep me right."**

 **"What do I do?"**

 **"Well, you've already done it. Don't solve the murder. Save the life. Sorry. Off-piste a bit. Back now. Phew! Let's play a game. Let's play Murder. Imagine someone's going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?"**

 **Mrs. Hudson makes the comment we are all thinking.**

 **"I think you're a popular choice at the moment, dear."**

 **"If someone could move Mrs. Hudson's glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely. More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding? Most people you can kill any old place. As a mental exercise, I've often planned the murder of friends and colleagues. Now, John, I'd poison. Sloppy eater – dead easy. I've given him chemicals and compounds – that way, he's never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn't have a clue. Lestrade's so easy to kill, it's a miracle no-one's succumbed to the temptation. I've got a pair of keys to my brother's house – I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him. if, if the whim arose."**

 **I hear Tom whisper to Molly.**

 **"He's pisssed, isn't he?"**

 **Without even looking at him, Molly stabs a plastic fork onto the back of his hand.**

 **"Ow!"**

 **"So, once again, who could you only kill here? Clearly, it's a rare opportunity, so it's someone who doesn't get out much. Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity. And since killing someone in public is difficult ... killing them in private isn't an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then. Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security. Possibly someone under threat. There is another question that remains, however – a big one, a huge one: how would you do it? How would you kill someone in public?"**

 **I stop, remembering something John had said about Major Sholto, his old commander. He mentioned that he got more death threats then Sherlock.**

 **"There has to be away. This has been planned."**

 **Archie jumps up excitedly from his chair.**

 **"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!"**

 **Sherlock stops and turns to him.  
"Oh, hello again, Archie. What's your theory? Get this right and there's a headless nun in it for you."**

 **I shake my head, worried that he just offered to show the child a headless nun.**

 **"The invisible man could do it."**

 **"The who, the what, the why, the when, the where?"**

 **"The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one who tried to kill the Guardsman."**

 **Sherlock gasps and straightens up, his eyes wide. Major Sholto gets to his feet, picks up his ceremonial sword propped against a nearby window and turns to walk towards the door. Sherlock turns his head away, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opens them again.**

 **" Oh, not just planned. Planned and rehearsed."**

 **He turns and watches as Sholto reaches the door and starts to open it. Sherlock turns back and heads quickly towards the top table, swiping someone's champagne glass from a table as he goes.**

 **"Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude."**

 **He skids to a halt in front of the top table and turns and holds up his glass. After everyone stands and makes the toast, instantly Sherlock turns back and bends down to John. He turns and starts making his way through the guests who are now blocking the aisle, John quickly turns and takes Mary's head in one hand and kisses her, getting up and starting to make his own way through the guests. Mary and I look to each and hesitate for only a few seconds, before jumping up and follows them.**


	23. Wedding Day Part Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Wedding Day  
Part Two

When Mary and I catch up to the boys, they are on a half-landing _part way up the staircase, Sherlock stands with the tips of his fingers against his temples and his eyes screwed closed. John paces impatiently beside him._

" _How can you not remember which room? You remember everything."_

" _I have to delete something!"_

 _Mary and I run around the corner and pelts up the stairs in between them, Mary is holding up her skirt with one hand to stop herself from tripping over it. As the two of us pass we speech at the same time._

" _207."_

 _The boys chase after us and Sherlock quickly overtakes us. Mary takes John's hand and we hurry after him. Reaching the second floor, Sherlock knocks on the door of Room 207 and tries the handle. He rattles the door handle._

" _Major Sholto? Major Sholto!"_

 _He slams the flat of his right hand repeatedly against the door. We can hear Major Sholto speaking loudly through the door._

" _If someone's about to make an attempt on my life, it won't be the first time. I'm ready."_

 _John walks towards the door. Sherlock steps back, shaking out his right hand and flexing the fingers._

" _Major, let us in."_

 _Mary stops behind him._

" _Kick the door down."_

 _We hear Sholto through the door again._

" _I really wouldn't. I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes."_

 _Sherlock walks closer to the door again._

" _You're not safe in there. Whoever's after you, we know that a locked room doesn't stop him."_

"The invisible man with the invisible knife."

"I don't know how he does it, so I can't stop him, and that means he'll do it again."

"Solve it, then. You're the famous Mr. Holmes. Solve the case. On you go. Tell me how he did it and I'll open the door."

John steps forward.

" _Please_ , this is no time for games. Just let us in! You're in danger!"

"So are you, so long as you're here. Please, leave me. Despite my reputation, I _really_ don't approve of collateral damage."

Mary and I look at Sherlock, as he paces back and forth across the landing.

"Solve it."

"Sorry?"

Mary sighs.

"Solve it, and he'll open the door like he said."

"If I couldn't solve it before, how can I solve it _now_?"

"Because it _matters_ now."

"What are you talking about? What's she talking about? Get your wife under control"

John sighs.

"She's right."

"Oh, _you've_ changed!"

"No, she is. Shut up. You are _not_ a puzzle-solver – you never have been. You're a drama queen."

 _Sherlock's mouth drops open and he stares at him._

"Now, there is a man in there about to die. 'The game is on'. Solve it!"

 _Sherlock bares his teeth at him, closing his eyes, thinking, a few moments later he opens them again. He steps over to Mary, takes hold of her head in both hands and kisses her forehead._

"Though, in fairness, he's a drama queen too."

Mary and I nod.

"Yes, he is."

"Major Sholto, no-one's coming to kill you. I'm afraid you've already been killed several hours ago. Don't take off your belt.

"My belt?"

Sherlock turns _around and talks to the three of us._

"His belt, yes. Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him, but it was through his belt."

I nod and continue his thought.

" _Tight_ belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn't even feel it."

John nods, catching up to us.

"The-the belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight … and when you took it off …"

I nod

"Exactly, delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world to create an alibi."

Sherlock steps toward the door, _shaking the door handle._

" Major Sholto?"

"So – I was to be killed by my uniform. How appropriate."

Mary speaks up from behind us.

"He solved the case, Major. You're supposed to open the door now. A deal is a deal."

"I'm not even supposed to _have_ this anymore. They gave me special dispensation to keep it. I couldn't imagine life out of this uniform. I suppose – given the circumstances – I don't _have_ to. When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue."

John shouts loudly.

"Whatever you're doing in there, James, _stop it, right now_. I will kick this door down."

"Mr. Holmes, you and I are similar, I think."

 _John turns away from the door and Sherlock walks closer._

"Yes, I think we are."

"There's a proper time to die, isn't there?"

"Of _course_ there is."

" And one should embrace it when it comes – like a soldier."

"Of _course_ one should, but not at John's _wedding_. We wouldn't _do_ that, would we – you and me? We would _never_ do that to John Watson."

 _Sherlock steps away from the door and John walks closer, leaning towards the door and listening for any sound from the room. He straightens up and takes off his jacket._

"I'm gonna break it down."

" No, wait, wait, you won't have to."

 _The door opens. Sholto glances briefly at Sherlock, then lowers his eyes before looking at John._

" _I_ believe I am in need of medical attention."

" I believe I am your doctor."

 _He follows Sholto as he turns and goes back into the room. Giving Sherlock and I a quick smile, Mary follows him. Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, as I take his hand. Later that night I am sitting in the reception hall, talking to Molly and Tom, when John comes up to me._

" _Have you seen Sherlock?"_

 _I shake my head._

" _Not recently, why?"_

" _He texted me telling him to get you and meet him, but I don't know where."_

 _I shrug._

" _Well, let's find him then. I can't imagine it's hard for Sherlock to hide at a wedding."_

 _John nods as he and I go to look for Sherlock. As we walk down the hall John spots him and Janine. Walking over to him and I follow behind him._

"Well, _glad_ to see you've pulled, Sherlock, what with murderers running riot at my wedding."

He _claps his hand on Sherlock's back._

" _One_ murder... – one _nearly_ murderer. Loves to exaggerate. You should try living with him."

I take a deep breath as Sherlock leans in addressing this last comment to Janine. Before I can make a comment Greg comes in through the entrance of the building.

"Sherlock? Got him for you."

 _Sherlock claps his hands together as the wedding photographer walks in._

"Ah, the photographer. Excellent! Thank you."

 _He walks over to the photographer and points at the camera he's holding._

"Er, may I have a look at your camera?"

The Photographer p _ulls his camera back nervously but then holds it out to him._

"what's this about? I was halfway home!"

"You should have driven faster."

Sherlock takes the camera, h _e looks at the screen on the back of the camera and starts flicking through the pictures._

" Ah, yes. _Yes_ , very good. There, you see? _Perfect."_

" _What is? You gonna tell us?"_

 _Sherlock hands the camera to Greg._

"Try looking yourself."

John walks over to Greg's side and looks over the pictures.

"Um, look for what?"

 _Janine also walks over. Sherlock strolls closer to the photographer, as John points at the camera._

"Is the murderer in these photographs?"

I sigh softly, understanding what Sherlock is getting at.

"It's not what's _in_ the photographs; it's what's _not_ in them – not in _any_ of them."

"There is always a man at a wedding who is not in any photograph but can go anywhere, and even carry an equipment bag around with him if he likes, and you never even see his face. You only ever see …"

"Sherlock, Madison, The showing-off thing: we've discussed it before."

 _Sherlock rapidly slaps one cuff of a pair of handcuffs around the photographer's wrist and the other cuff around the frame of a nearby birdcage luggage trolley._

" _The camera."_

"What are you doing? What _is_ this?"

Sherlock _holds up his phone to show the screen to us._

"Nathan Small, today's substitute wedding photographer – known to us as the Mayfly Man. His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in that incursion. Jonny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through Sholto's staff, found what he needed an invitation to a wedding – the one time Sholto would have to be out in public. So, he made his plan and rehearsed the murder, making sure of every last detail. Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac – though, in fairness, his photographs _are_ actually quite good."

Sherlock _tosses his phone to Greg._

"Everything you need is on that. You probably ought to ... arrest him or something."

Mary comes into the room stepping toward John, as Sherlock stands next to me.

"You were carrying handcuffs?"

"Down, girl."

Mary holds out her hand to John.

"Come on, quick!"

 _She reaches his side and John puts his arm around her as she turns and sees Small nearby. He is looking at Sherlock fixedly._

"It's not _me_ you should be arresting, Mr. Holmes."

"Oh, _I_ don't do the arresting. I just farm that out."

" Sholto – _he's_ the killer, not me. I should have killed him quicker."

 _He grins maniacally, then his smile fades and he shakes his head._

"I shouldn't have tried to be clever."

"You should have driven faster."

 _He takes his hands from behind his back and crooks one arm to me. I take it and we walk away. John and Mary follow them. Greg looks down at Sherlock's phone, then looks at Small._

" _Right."_

 _In the reception room, the tables have been cleared away. Looking into each other's eyes, Mary and John are dancing a slow waltz in the middle of the room to the sound of a single violin while all the guests stand around the edge of the room and watch them. On a low stage at the end of the room, Sherlock is playing his violin. The tune is the same one we heard at the beginning of the episode. He sways gently while he plays, his eyes fixed on the newlyweds. As the tune draws to an end, John shifts one hand to Mary's back, holds her by the waist with the other and starts to dip her backward. Mary gasps. Chuckling, he bends her backwards, as she giggles. He kisses her as the tune ends. The guests break into applause and some of them cheer. Everyone is looking at the happy couple except me, as I direct my applause towards Sherlock. Sherlock looks at me for a moment, then turns to the music stand in front of him. He had taken off his buttonhole flower and put it on the stand so that it wouldn't get in the way while he was playing and now he picks it up, shows me what he's holding and then tosses it across the room towards me. I catches it. John – who has pulled Mary upright again and is laughing happily – waves his thanks to Sherlock, then kisses Mary again as Sherlock steps to the nearby microphone._

 __"Ladies and gentlemen, just, er, one last thing before the evening begins properly. Apologies for earlier. A crisis arose and was dealt with. More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. I've never made a vow in my life, and after tonight I never will again. So, here in front of you all, I would like to make two vows, my first and last vow. First, to my love Madison, I promise to be yours until you decide that you are done putting up with me and move on to someone much more deserving of you then I am. And lastly Mary and John: whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will _always_ be there, _always_ , for all four of you. Er, I'm sorry, I mean, I mean three of you. All _three_ of you, in fact. I've just miscounted. Anyway, it's time for dancing. Play the music again, please, thank you."

 _Disco lights begin to flash and Sherlock gestures grandly to the guests as Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons' song_ "December 1963 (Oh What A Night)" _starts to play._

"Okay, everybody, just dance. Don't be shy!"

 _He walks down off the stage, still gesturing to the crowd._

" Dancing, please!"

 _The guests start to move onto the floor and begin to dance. He walks over to Mary and John who look quizzically at him. I walk out into the middle of the dance floor and over to them as well._

"Sorry, that was one more deduction than I was really expecting."

"Deduction?"

"Increased appetite, change of taste perception, and you were sick this morning. You assumed it was just wedding nerves. You got angry with me when I mentioned it to you. All the signs are there."

"The signs?"

"The signs of three."

 _His gaze drops to her abdomen._

 __"What?!"

"Mary, I think you should do a pregnancy test."

 _John sighs and drops his head, almost bending over double. Mary grins delightedly at Sherlock._

"W... the... the statistics for the first trimester are …"

" Shut up."

 _Sherlock freezes in the middle of forming his next word. He looks at John as if waiting for permission to continue._

"Just ... shut up."

"Sorry."

John and I turn to Mary looking at her over a bit surprised.

"How did _he_ notice before me? I'm a bloody doctor."

"It's your day off."

"It's your day off."

I glance between John and Mary.

"Stop. stop panicking."

"I'm not panicking."

"I'm pregnant – _I'm_ panicking."

Sherlock sighs.

"Don't panic. None of you panic."

 _The Watsons both look down, their faces full of concern._

"Absolutely no reason to panic."

"Oh, and you'd know, of course?"

"Yes, I _would_. You're already the best parents in the world. Look at all the practice you've had!"

"What practice?"

"Of course, the same way I know Madison is going to be a great mother. But you're hardly gonna need _me_ around now that you've got a _real baby_ on the way."

 _John stares, then Sherlock smiles happily at him. John laughs and reaches out to cup the back of his neck. Laughing, even more, he turns to his wife and puts his other hand on her shoulder as she begins to smile with delight. Sherlock turns his smile towards Mary, but after a moment the smile begins to fade a little._

" _You all right?"_

" _Yeah."_

 _John turns back to Sherlock, smiling joyfully. They look at each other for a long moment, then John breaks the eye contact and they both look a bit awkward. There's a slightly embarrassed pause for a couple of seconds_

"Dance. Both of you, now, go dance. We can't just stand here. People will wonder what we're talking about."

"Right."

 _Mary reaches out to touch Sherlock's arm, her voice tearful._

" _What about you?"_

" _Well, we can't all dance together, there are limits."_

 _Sherlock shrugs._

" _That's fine, Madison and I can dance together."_

 _John clears his throat. Still looking tearful, Mary turns to John._

"Come on, husband. Let's go."

"This isn't a waltz, is it?"

We laugh as Sherlock leans forward.

"Don't worry, Mary, I _have_ been tutoring him."

"He _did_ , you know. Baker Street, behind closed curtains. Mrs. Hudson came at one time. Don't know how _those_ rumors started!"

 _He sniggers. Giggling, she puts her left hand on his shoulder and they dance off into the crowd. Looking over John's shoulder, Mary smiles at Sherlock and I mouthing what may be a 'thank you.' We smile, then nods to her. John and Mary dance away, he lowers his eyes, then slowly turns and looks at everybody dancing all around us. When being looks back to me he notices that I am wearing the flower he tossed to me._

" _What do you say we get out of here?"_

 _I chuckle softly._

" _I would love that. I can't imagine much else will happen tonight."_

 _Sherlock nods._

" _I have to do one thing first."_

 _He turns towards the stage and walks back up on to it. On the music stand is the hand-written music he played for the newlyweds. Sherlock picks up the music and folds it into an envelope, which he puts onto the stand. Leaving the stage he walks slowly through the guests, back to me. Molly, dancing with Tom and Mrs. Hudson, looks across the room and watches him for a few seconds, then turns back to the others. Once Sherlock reaches me, we turn and head out into the garden, while the revelers dance on. Sherlock puts his coat around my shoulders and wraps an arm around me, while we walk away. Heading off into the night._


	24. Back on the Sauce

It had been about a month since John and Mary's wedding and Sherlock and I haven't seen them since the wedding. I suppose they have been busy trying to get things around for the baby. Even though Mary is only a few months along, and probably still isn't showing, I imagine it is a madhouse over there for two first time parents. As I awake I roll onto my back and glance over to my left, to find that Sherlock is gone. I'm not even sure if he had come home for the night. I glance over at the clock and see that is it around six o'clock. Which is normal for me since I took a new job shortly after the wedding.

I don't know how but Sherlock told me that it was to help with a case. It was also the reason he gave to me for being out at all hours. If I was with a normal man I would suspect an affair. After a few minutes of laying in bed and thinking of the hundreds of places Sherlock could possibly be, I get up and ready for my day. Luckily, it is my day off and I don't have to rush around.

About an hour later, after making my breakfast and settling in with a book, while I wait for Sherlock to get home, my phone goes off. I glance over my phone and see it is from John, I'm not sure why John would be calling me. Maybe he couldn't get a hold of Sherlock.

"Hey, John. How are you and Mary?"

"We're good, thank you Madison. Uh… listen, I found Sherlock in a drug den…"

I sit up, as an anger tone comes out in my voice.

"You found him in a what?!"

"I called Mycroft and he is on his way over there with a few other people to help you look around the flat to make sure he doesn't have any drugs there. We are on our way to the flat now."

I sigh softly, trying to calm myself.

"Sure that's a good idea? I'm likely to kill him."

"Molly almost beat you to it."

I sigh softly as John and I hang up the phone. I take a few deep breaths before Mycroft comes in with a man and a woman. One of the men appears to be Anderson, one of the police officers that convinced everyone Sherlock was lying before Jim forced him to jump off the roof. He had been trying to make it up to him and me ever since.

"Madison."

"Mycroft."

Mycroft and I have never really spent a long period of time together. Only meeting a handful of time. While there is a level of mutual respect, we don't really know how to act about or talk to each other.

"Do you have any idea if he has anything here, or where it could be?"

I shake my head.

"Not a one. But you may be short a sibling when he gets home."

"After this, I would applaud you."

I nod as Mycroft turns and heads downstairs, to wait for Sherlock as Anderson and the other two begin to look around.

"Anderson, if you and your group are going to find anything the kitchen is your best bet."

Anderson nods before he and the young woman begin to look around the kitchen. It doesn't take long for Sherlock and John to get to the flat. I can hear him fighting with Mycroft downstairs. While I can't clearly understand what they are saying, I can imagine that they are not praising each other. Anderson, who had seen or heard from Sherlock since he left the police force looks to me.

"Is that Mr. Holmes?"

Before I can answer I hear Sherlock shout as he hurries up the stairs.

"For God's Sake!"

Sherlock goes into the kitchen and glares at Anderson and the young woman.

"Anderson."

Anderson puts his gloved hands up apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. It's for your own good."

He looks annoyed, as he drops his keys onto the kitchen table. The young woman stares at him.

"Oh, that's him, isn't it. You said he'd be taller."

Mycroft comes into the kitchen and looking towards Sherlock.

"Some members of your little fan-club. Do be polite. They're entirely trustworthy and even willing to search through the toxic waste dump that you are pleased to call a flat. Why Madison stays here with you, I have no idea. I can only imagine how often she cleans this place for you to destroy it."

Sherlock has curled up sideways in his chair and now lays his head on one of the arms, closing his eyes.

"You're a celebrity these days, Sherlock. You can't afford a drug habit."

"I do not have a drug habit."

John's attention is focussed on a large space between Sherlock's chair and the kitchen. He points.

"What happened to my chair?"

"He says it was blocking his view to the kitchen."

"Well, it's good to be missed."

Sherlock opens his eyes and sighs.

"You were gone. I saw an opportunity."

"No, you saw the kitchen."

Mycroft turns to Anderson.

"What have you found so far? Clearly nothing."

Sherlock huffs.

"There is nothing to find."

"There'd better not be, are you will not live to see your next case."

I uncross my arms and place my hands on my hips.

"Have to phone our parents, of course, in Oklahoma. Won't be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line-dancing."

Sighing, Sherlock stands up and walks closer to his brother.

"This is not what you think. This is for a case."

"What case could possibly justify this?"

Sherlock turns around to face me, while I want to slap him right now, I understand why he is doing what he is doing. I sigh softly before answering Mycroft for Sherlock.

"Charles Augustus Magnussen."

Mycroft smug smile fades from his face before he draws in a breath and turns to Anderson and the young lady.

"That name you think you may have just heard – you were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you – on behalf of the British security services – that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don't reply – just look frightened and scuttle."

Anderson immediately ushers the young lady out of the kitchen and follows her onto the landing, closing the door behind him. When Mycroft turns back, John is standing beside Sherlock.

"I hope I won't have to threaten you two as well."

"Well, I think we'd find that embarrassing."

Sherlock snorts laughter, turning his head away. As Mycroft gives him a stern look.

" Magnussen is not your business."

Sherlock turns back to his brother.

"Oh, you mean he's yours."

"You may consider him under my protection."

"I consider you under his thumb."

"If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me."

"Okay. I'll let you know if I notice. Er, what was I going to say? Oh, yeah."

Sherlock opens the door.

"Bye-bye."

He points the way out. Mycroft walks around him, then turns to face him.

"Unwise, brother mine."

Immediately Sherlock seizes Mycroft's left arm just below the elbow. Twisting his arm up behind his back, he slams his brother face-first against the wall beside the kitchen door. Mycroft cries out in pain. Sherlock breathes rapidly, his voice venomous.

"Brother mine, don't appall me when I'm high."

John and I quickly step forward, however, John gets beside the boys before I can and puts his hand up to me. He speaks softly but very firmly, watching Sherlock's face all the time.

"Mycroft, don't say another word. Just go. He could snap you in two, and right now I am slightly worried that he might."

Mycroft pushes himself free of his brother's grip and holds his left arm in pain. Sherlock turns and walks away. Mycroft turns towards him. John stops him from speaking.

"Don't speak. Just leave."

Straightening up, he clears his throat, Mycroft leaves. In the living room, Sherlock is stretching and rubbing the back of his neck. John turns and walks towards him. As John turns to us.

"Magnussen?"

"What time is it?"

"About eight."

Sherlock sniffs deeply and sighs out a disgusted breath.

"I'm meeting him in three hours. I need a bath."

He walks through the kitchen towards the hallway.

"It's for a case, you said?"

"Yep."

"What sort of case?"

"Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in."

"You trying to put me off?"

I scoff.

"No, he's trying to recruit you."

Sherlock goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. John looks over to me as I have my left hand over my mouth.

"What is that?"

John points to the ring I have on my ring finger.

"Is that what I think it is? Did you and Sherlock…"

"No, we did not. We bought rings after I got hit on by one of the gentlemen at your wedding and Sherlock decided that he didn't want that happening again. His is in on his nightstand. He said he didn't wanna risk losing it, now I realize why."

John holds his hand out. When I extend my hand to him, he looks over the ring. It is nothing fancy, a rather small, simple diamond on a gold band. He looks at the rings as if he was the first man to discover fire. Shortly after he notices it Sherlock gets out of the shower and is dressed. Putting his Jacket on as he walks into the sitting room, giving me a soft kiss on the cheek as he walks by.

"Oh no, don't think a peek on the cheek is going to get you out of this, Sherlock."

He sits in his chair and looks up at me.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough. How could you get mixed up in this again?"

"I had to, once my drug issue hit the press I could get Magnussen's attention and we could move forward with the second part of my plan. I didn't bring anything back to the flat to keep you away from it, because I could not bear to see you using again."

I sigh softly and shake my head, walking back into the bedroom. I know that I will need to be there when Magnusson gets there anyway, if he knew I was with Sherlock I would be fired and we would be back to square one. Oddly enough I would be less angry if he had just told me what he was doing. Granted I would not have agreed to it if I knew he was doing drugs again, but still. I throw myself on the bed, having closed and locked the door behind me.

"Why am I in love with a sociopath?"


	25. In Hopsital

Chapter Twenty-Five

In Hospital

After I hear the boys leave the flat I head into work, as Magnusson PA. Thank god this job is not a permit thing, I think I'd be likely to kill myself. Magnusson is someone who loves to humiliate anyone and everyone, for no reason at all. I've only worked for the man a few weeks and he has already made a point to make fun of my legs, my small wedding band, and had even figured out and made fun of my previous drug habit. How he knew this I have no idea since it is not public knowledge, nor had I ever been arrested on a drug charge. But I suppose if he can figure that out Sherlock is right about him being dangerous.

I've only been on the clock for about two or three hours before I hear the lift alarm go off. I don't know who would be trying to get into the office since Magnusson is in his upstairs office right now, getting ready for a business dinner. When I open the computer on the screen I see that Sherlock is trying to use the lift. I sigh softly as I speak to him over the intercom.

"I suppose this is why you wanted me to take this job?"

"That and you look so adorable in office wear."

"I'm inclined to call security on you after this morning."

"But you won't do that, you love me too much."

"That could be called into question."

"Okay, what about to stop a horrible human being?"

"That I can get on board with."

I unlock the lift and allow Sherlock to come up to the office. However, before they get there everything goes black. I am woken slightly to John kneels beside me.

"Madison. Madison, stay with me."

I let out a small whence due to a huge headache. I'd been struck on the back of the head and knocked unconscious. I try to get up, but I can feel John's hand on my back.

"It's okay, just relax, don't get up."

I can hear him and Sherlock speaking in hushed tones to each other, but I am too focused on staying awake to listen to what they are saying. The next thing I knew I am being looked over by EMT's and being taken to the hospital. On the way, I lose my battle for consciousness and pass out. I wake up in a brightly lit room, Mary next to me.

"Hey, Maddie."

I look around and try to set up.  
"Hey, hey, everything's alright. You're in hospital, you got knocked out."

I lay back and whence slightly, my vision slightly blurred and my head still reeling.

"John and Sherlock."

"John is fine."

"What about Sherlock."

"Sherlock has…. He is okay, but he is in hospital too. We can talk more after you see the doctor."

I nod slightly as Mary stands to leave the room. I look around trying to regain my senses. Once I do Mary walks back in with a Doctor.

"Hello, Mrs. Love, I am Doctor Smith. What do you say we look you over and see if you can't get out of here, yeah?"

I slowly sit up and nod.

"How are you feeling? Any lightheadedness or nausea?"

"No."

"Can you see alright?"

The Doctor takes a light and checks my eyes.

"Yes."

"Can you feel my pen?"

The Doctor takes the pen and pokes a few of my toes on either foot.

"Yes."

"Well, everything looks good. You don't have any signs of a concussion, which is nothing short of a miracle. But if you feel off or sick at all within the next few weeks come in immediately."

I nod.

"Yes, Doctor."

The Doctor smiles and leaves the room as I sit up.

"I need to see Sherlock."

Mary nods.  
"I understand, but let's take things slow. Yeah? Let's get you dressed and have you walk around a little bit before we leave."

I nod as Mary goes over to a bag on one of the guest chairs in the room. Getting some of my clothes out of it.

"I figured a dress would be best. You can just slip it on."

I nod.

"Thank you, Mary."

"Not a problem. You and Sherlock are family."

I smile softly as I stand and get dressed. Mary only has to help me get the dress zipped up since some of my muscles are rather stiff from falling on the floor. Once I am dressed, I slip the pair of flats Mary had brought on. Walking around the room a little bit, gaining my balance. As I do I look up to Mary.

"Ready to go see Sherlock?"

I nod.

"Yes."

Mary nods.

"Alright before you do, I should tell you what happened."

I look at her a little confused before she continues.

"Now, you must remember he is fine. But Sherlock has shot by whoever knocked you out."

I take a deep shaky breath.

"And you must remember if it is anyone's fault other then the shooter it is Sherlock's. He didn't have to be there, but he felt he needed to in order to solve his case."

I nod.

"I need to see him."

Mary nods.

"Okay, come on."

Mary and I gather my things and we leave the room, heading down the hall to the room they have Sherlock in. When I enter the room I see him lying in the hospital bed, monitors, and an IV attached to him. I place a hand over my mouth, sitting next to him, and taking his hand. Mary had stayed out of the room. I stay in the room for a few days before Sherlock wakes up, only leaving to go back to the flat to shower and get a few hours of sleep, before going back to the hospital. It takes Sherlock a few days to wake up and luckily I am there when he does. When he walks he looks over at me and smiles softly, I smile back and chuckle softly.

"Good Morning."

"Is it morning?"

I shrug, looking down at my watch.

"For a little while longer, yes."

Sherlock presses the button on a remote on the bed and the top of his bed rises, pushing him into more of a sitting position. When he tries to push himself higher on the bed he gasps in pain.

"Oh, yeah. May want to restart your morphine. I might have fiddled with the taps."

"Why?" 

I shrug.  
"You kept secrets from me, came dangerously close to using me, you almost got both of us killed because of a case, you put John in danger, and you were using drugs again. Take your pick."

Nods, grimacing, as he reaches across to a machine beside his bed and pushes a button to release a dose of morphine into the drip in his arm.

"Don't worry though, after that I think I can forgive you… It's a dream come true for you, this place. They actually attach the drugs to you."

"Yes, but it's not good for working."

"Neither of us will be working for a while, Sherlock."

"Are you okay?"

I nod.

"Yes, but I need to take it easy for about a week and a half."

"How long was I asleep?"

"About three days. I need to go, I'm not supposed to keep you talking."

I stand and kiss his forehead. As I pull away Sherlock placing his hand on my cheek and pulls me in for a soft kiss.

"I love you, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock smiles softly.

"I love you, Mrs. Love."

I smile softly getting ready to leave.

"I'll give your love to John and Mary."

As I leave the room I close the door behind me, to let him rest.

After heading down to see John and Mary to tell them that Sherlock is awake the three of us go out to lunch. When we get back to the hospital Greg is there to check up on Sherlock. Mary and I stay in the waiting area since there is a limit of two people to visit at one time. John takes Greg up to see Sherlock, as they head up the stairs Greg gets his phone out. The last time we saw Sherlock like this was when Adler drugged him, and Greg found that extremely funny, as we all did.

Shortly after the two go up, they come running back down. John looks at Mary and I.

"He's gone."

"What?"

"He blotted. We have to find him."

"Let's go then."

John shakes his head.

"No, Madison. You don't need to be pushing yourself right now. Mary, Greg, and I will look. You go back to the flat in case he goes back there."

I nod.

"Alright. Find him, John."

John nods, before he, Mary, and Greg, head out to look for Sherlock, but not before the three of them give me large hugs.


	26. The Domestic

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Domestic

As John had suggested I head back to the flat, on the off chance that Sherlock had gone back there. When I get there Mrs. Hudson is cleaning up the flat.

"Mrs. Hudson, you really don't have to do that."

"Of course, I don't. But with Sherlock being in hospital and you being so worried about him, it's the least I can do to help."

I smile softly, clearly tired from only getting a few hours sleep over the past few days. It is normal for me to only get a few hours a night when Sherlock and I are working on a case, but the added stress of him being in hospital has drained me, both mentally and physically.

"Why don't you take a nap, my dear? When you wake up you can come and help me clean, yeah?"

I take a deep breath nod, before heading to the bedroom. Falling onto the bed when I get there, I don't think I was even awake when I hit the bed. Three or four hours later I wake up and walk back out into the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson had almost everything cleaned, there were only a few things that needed put away. I glance around the room.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. You're too kind to us."

As she shrugs John opens the door of the living room at 221B and walks in, sighing quietly. John takes off his jacket and drops it onto the table. Mrs. Hudson is in the kitchen but now hurries towards him worriedly. Mary walks through the door.

"John, Mary."

Mary gives her a small smile and walks towards the fireplace while John stands by the dining table with his hands on his hips. Sherlock hobbles to the doorway and stops there, bracing himself with one hand on the edge of the open door. Mrs. Hudson looks around shocked.

"Oh, Sherlock! Oh, good gracious, you look terrible."

"Get me some morphine from your kitchen. I've run out."

"I don't have any morphine!"

"Then what exactly is the point of you?"

She presses her lips together for a moment, then looks around at everyone. As I step up next to her, looking over at Sherlock.

"What's going on?"

"Bloody good question."

Sherlock looks over to John, leaning against the doorframe to keep himself up.

"The Watsons are about to have a domestic, and fairly quickly, I hope, because we've got work to do."

"Oh, I have a better question."

John paces towards Mary, looking angrily into her face.

"Is everyone I've ever met a psychopath?"

Still at the door, Sherlock's eyes lift upwards as if he's thinking. While Mary and I shrug and nod, looking at each other.

"Yes. Good that we've settled that. Anyway, we …"

John turns towards him furiously.

"SHUT UP!"

Mrs. Hudson jumps at the loudness of his cry and puts one hand to her mouth.

"Oh!"

"And stay shut up, because this is not funny. Not this time."

"I didn't say it was funny."

John turns his head to look at Mary.

"You."

He turns to face her. When he speaks, his voice and his face are full of barely-controlled anger and he frequently breathes heavily throughout his next words.

"What have I ever done ... hmm? ... my whole life ... to deserve you?"

Sherlock places his right hand on the door post.

"Everything."

John, in the same tone as before, turns to face him and steps towards him.

"Sherlock, I've told you... shut up."

As John steps forward, I move around Mrs. Hudson and between the boys.

"He's right John."

Sherlock nods continuing his thought.

"Everything – everything you've ever done is what you did."

John sighs and replies very softly and dangerously.

"Sherlock, one more word and you will not need morphine."

I sigh softly.

"Think about it, John. You were a doctor who went to war. You're a man who couldn't stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie. One of your best friends is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high."

Sherlock sighs softly behind me.

"That's me, by the way. Hello."

"The other is the sister of a criminal for hire. Even the landlady used to run a drug cartel."

"It was my husband's cartel. I was just typing."

Sherlock sighs

"And exotic dancing."

"Sherlock Holmes, if you've been YouTube-ing…"

"ohn, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You're abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people... so is it truly such a surprise that the woman you've fallen in love with conforms to that pattern?"

John grimaces briefly and then, with his eyes still fixed on Sherlock, he points towards his wife on the other side of the room. His voice full of suppressed tears.

"But she wasn't supposed to be like that."

We look across to Mary, who lowers her head. John, facing Sherlock, points back at Mary, his voice a little stronger.

"Why is she like that?"

Sherlock looks away towards the sofa wall for several seconds and then turns to look directly into John's eyes.

"Because you chose her."

John stares back at him, his face unreadable. Sherlock holds his gaze. Finally, John turns away, speaking conversationally.

"Why is everything, MY FAULT!"

His voice raises to a loud shout, he furiously kicks the small table beside Sherlock's chair across the floor. Mrs. Hudson jumps and flails. Even Sherlock and I jump a little, but Mary remains still.

"John, listen. Be calm and answer me. What is she?"

John's gaze is fixed on Mary, though he blinks repeatedly.

"My lying wife?"

"No. What is she?"

"The woman who's carrying my child who has lied to me since the day I met her?"

"No. Not in this flat; not in this room. Right here, right now, what is she?"

John has a small fixed humorless smile on his face as his eyes remain locked on his wife. His head is low on his neck and he looks murderous. After a long moment, he sniffs deeply and harshly. He turns briefly towards Sherlock and me, then back to Mary.

"Okay. Your way."

Sherlock lowers his head and looks away. John turns, clearing his throat, then picks up one of the dining chairs and puts it down facing the two armchairs and the fireplace. He looks at Mary.

"Sit."

"Why?"

John in a tight, angry whisper, leaning towards her while pointing down to the dining chair.

"Because that's where they sit."

He straightens up, still speaking in the same tight voice but a little louder.

"the people who come in here with their stories. Th-the clients – that's all you are now, Mary. You're a client. This is where you sit and talk ... and this is where we sit and listen, then we decide if we want you or not."

Sniffing, he walks over to his chair and sits down, clearing his throat and adjusting the cushion behind his back. After a moment, Sherlock and I walk forward and crosses the room. Sherlock pauses briefly in front of Mary to meet her eyes and give her a tiny nod, he turns and sits down in his own chair, as I sit on the arm of the chair. Mary watches him as we sit, then looks across to John, who has slumped back into his chair and is not meeting her eyes, then she slowly walks in between them and turns round to sit down on the dining chair, putting her shoulder bag onto the floor beside her. She adjusts her coat around her, dusts off the tops of her legs, tugs the lower part of her trousers down a little on both legs, then turns her head to John as he looks back at her.

Mary puts what looks like the same pen drive onto the table at the side of John's chair, then withdraws her hand. Sherlock, his face in a grimace as if he is in pain.

"A.G.R.A. What's that?"

"Er. my initials."

John grimaces and looks away. Sherlock looks down, then glances towards him. I don't move my gaze from Mary, trying to offer way support I can.

"Everything about who I was is on there. If you love me, don't read it in front of me."

John lifts the and nearest to the table in a shrug.

"Why?"

Mary speaks trying to hold back tears.

"Because you won't love me when you've finished… and I don't want to see that happen."

She looks down. With a loud sigh, John snatches the drive from the table, looks briefly across to Sherlock and then shoves the drive into his left trouser pocket. Sniffing, he pulls himself into a higher sitting position on his chair. Mary looks across to Sherlock.

"How much d'you know already?"

Sherlock still speaking more quietly than I've heard him speak.

"By your skill set, you are – or were – an intelligence agent. Your accent is currently English but I suspect you are not. You're on the run from something; you've used your skills to disappear; ... Magnussen knows your secret, which is why you were going to kill him. Which is why you broke into his office, shot me, and clubbed Madison."

I look at her a little shocked.

"You did what?" 

"I'm so sorry, Madison. I had to, to get to Magnussen. The stuff Magnussen has on me, I would go to prison for the rest of my life."

John sighs.

"So you were just gonna kill him."

"People like Magnussen should be killed. That's why there are people like me."

John lifts his left hand and gently punching the arm of the chair.  
"Perfect. So that's what you were? An assassin? How could I not see that?"

"You did see that."

John's humorless and slightly murderous smile is back on his face. Mary pauses for a moment, before continuing.

"and you married me."

She pauses again, then tilts her head towards Sherlock and I.

"Because they're right. It's what you like."

John looks back at her stony-faced. She holds his gaze for a moment, then lowers her eyes. I take a deep breath, trying to remember that she had a very good reason for doing what she did.

"So ... Mary … any documents that Magnussen has concerning yourself, you want extracted and returned."

"Why would you help me?"

Sherlock sighs softly, and responses before I can.

"Because you saved my life."

John looks between the two confused.

"Sorry, what?"

Sherlock takes a couple of noisy, strained breaths, bracing his hands on the arms of his chair.

"When I happened on you and Magnussen… you had a problem. More specifically, you had a witness. The solution, of course, was simple. Kill us both and leave. However, sentiment got the better of you. One precisely-calculated shot to incapacitate me … in the hope that it would bide you more time to negotiate my silence. Of course, you couldn't shoot Magnussen. On the night that both of us broke into the building, your own husband would become a suspect, so… you calculated ... that Magnussen ... would use the fact of your involvement rather than sharing the information with the police ... as is his M.O. and then you left the way you came. Have I missed anything?"

John shakes his head.

"How did she save your life?"

"She phoned the ambulance."

"I phoned the ambulance."

"She phoned first. You didn't find me for another five minutes. Left to you, I would have died. The average arrival time for a London ambulance is … eight minutes."

He lifts his left hand and looks at his watch as the clatter of feet can be heard on the stairs. Two paramedics run into the room.

"Did somebody call an ambulance?"

Breathing heavily and with his left hand still raised in front of him, he looks towards the paramedics.

"Did you bring any morphine? I asked on the phone."

"We were told there was a shooting."

I nod.

"There was, last week…"

Sherlock is now holding his left wrist with his right hand, his fingers on his pulse point. He takes a sharp breath. He puts his hands on the arms of the chair and starts to push himself upwards.

"but I believe I'm bleeding internally and my pulse is very erratic. You may need to restart my heart on the way."

His voice jolts on the word 'heart' and his knees buckle. John, Mary, and I hurry forward and each of us takes hold of him to support him. The paramedics run towards them.  
"Come on, Sherlock. Come on, Sherlock."

"Madison. John."

Sherlock groans and grabs at John and I clinging to our outer shoulders. Mary steps back out of the way of the paramedics. The paramedics put their bags down on the floor near him and take hold of him, supporting his weight, but he ignores them and stares intensely at us.

"Magnussen is all that matters now. You can trust Mary. She saved my life."

"She shot you."

"Mixed messages, I grant you."

He grimaces, crying out in pain, and starts to fall. John and the paramedics start to lower him to the floor. Sherlock cries out again. John releases him, watching the paramedics. They lay Sherlock down as he groans and whimpers. John and I straighten and look down in concern as one of the paramedics gets out an oxygen mask. While they continue working, John looks across to Mary, breathing heavily and with his teeth slightly bared. When the paramedics take Sherlock out of the flat on a backboard, I go with him, getting into the ambulance and going with him to Hospital. Not surprisingly, John and Mary don't come until the next morning.


	27. Christmas with the Holmes

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Christmas with the Holmes

It had been a few months since John and Mary's domestic in our flat. Sherlock had been released from hospital, just in time for Christmas. As a result, his mother wanted to have us all over the Holmes' cottage. It was a nice thought, even though having all of us in a cottage together may not be the best idea, but I guess that's what families do.

Sherlock, Mycroft, Mrs. Holmes, for some reason Bill Wiggins, a young man Sherlock has all but taken under his wing, and I are in the kitchen. Sherlock is sitting at the table on his phone, while Mycroft and I talking to each other about different political issues. Oddly enough Mycroft and I have a lot in common and are getting along splendidly. Mrs. Holmes comes in and places a basket of potatoes, on Mycroft's laptop, which he has placed almost in the middle of the table.

"Is this your laptop."

"yes that is and it has all the information to protect the free world on it, which you have potatoes on."

"When you shouldn't haven't it sitting on the table."

"It's been Christmas day for a least a week now, why is it only twelve o'clock? Why are we doing this? We never do this."

I sigh softly.

"Because Sherlock is home for hospital."

Mrs. Holmes smiles at me.

"That's right, my dear. And Sherlock got married to Madison."

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"We aren't married, just wear the bands."

"Well, I'm counting it as my little boy getting married and if I ever find the person who put a bullet in my boy, I'll turn absolutely monstrous. We are happy they are together and Sherlock is better."

Mycroft smiles up at his mother sarcastically.

"Am I happy too? I haven't checked."

"Behave, Mike."

" Mycroft is the name you gave me if you could suffer through till the end."

Mrs. Holmes scolds him before heading into the living room with a cup of tea for Mary. Mycroft sips some of the punch, as he does Sherlock pats my back.

"You should have some punch too."

I shake my head.

"I'm not really that thirsty."

Honesty, I was kind of thirst but I had smelled the drink and it smelled a little odd, so I don't want to drink any of it.

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Sherlock takes a deep breath and leaves his hand on my back, rubbing my back with his thumb. This isn't odd for him, but he normally does this when I am having trouble sleeping. Before long Mycroft stands to leave the room.

"If I am going to be stuck in here with family for the next six to eight hours, I need a cigarette."

He takes his coat off the back of his chair and heads on the kitchen to the main door. Sherlock is still playing on his phone when Billy comes in.

"Have you had any of the Cedar, Mrs. Holmes."

When he calls me Mrs. Holmes I look up to him a little surprised.

"Bill, it's Ms. Love, not Holmes. Sherlock and I aren't actually married, and no I haven't."

"Oh, sorry. Do you want any? It's really good."

I shake my head.

"No, thank you, Bill."

I glance over to my shoulder to Sherlock, who is still looking down at his phone, shrugging his shoulders. It takes me a few minutes to get an idea of what they are doing.

"Did you two put something in the punch?"

Billy becomes nervous, shrugging his shoulders, while Sherlock kind of drops his phone. Before I can get a clear answer out of both of them, Sherlock stands.

"I'm going to go join Mycroft."

He hurries out of the room, as I look up to Bill, who is leaning against the counter.

"Did you and Sherlock put something in the punch."

"Ms. Love, I don't know what you're talking about."

I sigh softly and head out of the kitchen into the main room. As I do I see Mrs. Holmes sticking her head out the door, yelling at the boys.  
"Are you two smoking?!"

I hear an overlap of voices as the boys reply. I chuckle softly as she closes the door and I walk up behind her.

"Oh, are you going outside too, sweetheart. I hope not to smoke with those two."

I shake my head.

"Of course not, Mum. I just needed to talk to Sherlock about something."

She pats me on the shoulder, smiling. Oddly enough, I don't find it odd to call Mrs. Holmes Mum. She is very loving toward me even though she's only seen me a handful of times. As I head out to the yard, Mycroft is standing a few feet away from Sherlock, closer to the door.

"MI6, they want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months."

 _Sherlock, who had started to raise his cigarette to his lips, lowers it again and looks a little surprised._

"Then why don't you want me to take it?"

"It's tempting ... but on balance you have more utility closer to home."

"How do _I_ have utility?"

 _He takes a drag on his cigarette. Mycroft shrugs slightly._

"Here be dragons."

 _He takes a pull on his own cigarette, then holds it up to look at, frowning. He coughs._

"This isn't agreeing with me. I'm going in."

"You need _low_ tar. You still smoke like a beginner."

"Also, your loss would break my heart."

 _Sherlock had just started to take a drag on his cigarette and now he chokes and coughs before turning to look at his brother, who still hasn't turned around. I laugh softly at his reaction to his brother telling him that he loves him._

"What the _hell_ am I supposed to say to that?!"

Mycroft turns around and holds out his arms a little.

"Merry Christmas."

"You hate Christmas."

"Yes. Perhaps there was something in the punch."

"Clearly, go and have some more." 

Mycroft finally turns to me, as he walks into the house I step outside.

"Madison."

"Mycroft."

Once the door is shut behind him, I take a few steps toward Sherlock, who turns when he hears my heels clicking against the walkway stones.

"Hello, my dear."

"Madison, what are you doing out here?"

"I needed to talk to you about something. Something that when I ask earlier you ran out of the room."

"I didn't run away from the question, Sherlock Holmes doesn't run away from anything."

I laugh softly.

"Fine, you walked away from it. Whichever. I still need to talk to you about it. Did you and Bill put anything in the cedar?"

"Bill did, I didn't."

"Did Bill do it under your instruction?"

"Does it really matter who did what under whose orders?"

I sigh.

"Sherlock, why?!"

"Because I need everyone to be asleep so John and I can take Mycroft's laptop to Appledore."

I take a deep breath.  
"So you drug your whole family?"

"Not my whole family, you didn't drink any."

"Don't be funny. Not right now. This had better have something to do with helping Mary."

He nods as he drops the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it to put it out.

"It does. This will save Mary from his monster."

As I take a deep breath, trying to process what goes through his head when he makes these plans. As I take another deep breath to speak Sherlock's phone alarm goes off.

"What is that?"

"My timer, which means everyone should be asleep now."

I sigh against, crossing my arms, as Sherlock looks at me a little confused.

"What?"

"Nothing. I've given up trying to figure out your thought processes when you come up with these plans."

Sherlock shrugs and heads back inside and I follow behind him. He calls out to John as he enters the door.

"Don't drink Mary's tea."

When I make it into the room, I see John standing over Mary checking to make sure she's okay.

"John, make sure she is okay, then help me check everyone else in the house."

"Why? What has he done?" 

"He has drugged everyone in the house."

John scoffs and rolls his eyes, checking Mary, making sure she is without a doubt okay. When I walk into the next room, I see Mrs. Holmes asleep in the chair Sherlock had been in, and Mycroft is laying over the table. Sherlock has the back of his hand under his mother's noise. I walk over to his Mycroft and make sure he is still breathing and his pulse is normal.

 _As Sherlock holds the back of his hand to his mother's nose to check her breathing, then walks past Bill, who is standing nearby, and goes over to the kitchen table. John walks into the room, a little aggravated._

"Did you just drug my pregnant wife?"

"Don't worry. Wiggins is an excellent chemist."

Bill nods and leans against the counter.

"I calculated your wife's dose myself. Won't affect the little one. I'll keep an eye on 'er."

"He'll monitor their recovery. It's more or less his day job."

John and I stare at him, shaking our heads as he puts his scarf on.

"What the hell have you done?"

"...A deal with the devil."

I take a deep breath.

"He's going to see Magnusson to give him Mycroft's laptop."

"What?! Sherlock, why on God's green earth would you drug everyone in the house just to go see Magnusson."

Sherlock doesn't answer, but instead walks out of the house to the yard, after grabbing Mycroft's laptop off the table. John and I follow him, still a little aggravated. As we walk through the main room I look over to John.

"Did you check Mr. Holmes?"

"Yeah, he's fine."

"Good."

As we leave the Holmes' Cottage we hear the sounds of a helicopter. Sherlock turns to John and me with a smile.

"Ah. There's our lift."

Sherlock begins to walk out of the yard and calls back to us.

"Are you two coming?"

"Where?" 

"Do you want to save Mary?"

"Of course."

"Good, because this is going to be _incredibly_ dangerous. One false move and we'll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be in prison for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man we've ever encountered, and the odds are comprehensively stacked against us."

John sighs.

"But it's Christmas."

Sherlock smiles.

"I feel the same way."

He turns to me while a smile on his face. I take a deep breath.

"Sherlock, it is actually Christmas."

Sherlock's smile fades as he turns to John.

"Did you bring your gun as I suggested?"

" _Why_ would I bring my gun to your parents' house for Christmas dinner?!"

"Is it in your coat?"

"Yes."

"Off we go, then."

We start walking toward the Helicopter. John is still a little confused.  
"Where are we going?"

Sherlock and I answer, simultaneously.

"Appledore."

As I say this, Sherlock realizes that I am going with them. While it is clear he is not happy about it, he doesn't argue. After drugging everyone in the house, it is kind of hard to argue with me going.


	28. The Appledore Vaults

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Appledore Vaults

I don't take us long to get to Appledore in the helicopter. When we get there we are shown to a large sitting room, where one long wall is made of glass and looks out to the grounds, the other is lined with large green exotic plants. Magnussen is sitting on the sofa. He takes a drink from his glass as Sherlock stops a couple of paces in front of the sofa while John and I stand a little way behind and on either side of him. Magnussen nods to his men and they turn and leave. Lifting his glass he smirks at over to me.

"Madison. I didn't know you were with the famous Mr. Holmes. Which begins the question why is your wedding ring so small."

I sigh softly, no answering him. Not that I would have anything to say to a man who made it his personal mission to humiliate everyone under his employe every day. He chuckles softly, looking over at Sherlock.

"I would offer you a drink but it's very rare and expensive."

He drinks. Sherlock turns and sits down on the sofa a couple of feet to Magnussen's right. He sighs with a contented sound and slaps his hands down on the white leather either side of him, putting the laptop down between himself and the other man, then crosses his legs and clasps his hands in his lap. He looks across to the other side of the room.

"Oh. It was you."

I turn the direction Sherlock is looking and see projected onto a glass wall opposite us, the footage is playing of Sherlock and Mary's rescue of John from the bonfire.

"Yes, of course. Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr. Holmes."

John glances over his shoulder and turns back, then does a double-take, before walking toward the wall. While Magnusson continues.

"The drugs thing I never believed for a moment. Anyway, you wouldn't care if it was exposed, would you? But look how you care about John Watson. Your damsel in distress."

John continues walking closer to the wall, staring at the footage with his mouth open. In slow motion on the footage, Sherlock drags John out from under the bonfire again John turns around and walks closer to Magnussen, his voice tight and furious.

"put me in a fire ... for leverage?"

"Oh, I'd never let you burn, Doctor Watson. (He sits up and puts his glass onto the clear glass table in front of him, then looks up at John again.) I had people standing by. I'm not a murderer ... unlike your wife."

John stares up at him grimly. He holds his gaze for a while, then glances across to Sherlock. Magnussen walks over towards the wall. Reaching the wall, he puts one finger on it at the side of the projected footage. There's a beep and as Magnussen slides his finger across the glass, the footage slides with it and disappears off to the side. John tilts his head at him questioningly. The side of Sherlock's mouth lifts in a small smile.

"Let me explain how leverage works, Doctor Watson. For those who understand these things, Mycroft Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well ... apart from me.

Mycroft's pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock. And Sherlock's pressure point is his best friend, John Watson and his love, Madison Moriarty. Madison Moriarty's pressure point was her criminal brother, but since he is gone I had to focus on John Watson's pressure point which is his wife. I own John Watson's wife … I own Mycroft. He's what I'm getting for Christmas."

Even though the laptop is almost within his reach, he holds out his hand towards Sherlock. Without looking around, Sherlock shoves it across the sofa towards him.

"It's an exchange, not a gift."

He stands up, while Magnussen raises his eyebrows at him. Sherlock walks a few paces forward, then turns around again. Magnussen picks up the laptop.

" Forgive me, but… I already seem to have it."

He holds the laptop to his chest and runs his fingers over the back.

"It's password protected."

Magnussen continues to run his fingers over the machine, as Sherlock continues.

"In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson."

"Oh, she's bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what I've seen."

John sighs.

"We don't need to see it."

"You might enjoy it, though. I enjoy it."

John swallows but holds his gaze and nods as if not surprised. Sherlock speaks in a very nonchalantly tone.

"Then why don't you show us?"

"Show you Appledore?"

Magnussen puts the laptop onto the sofa beside him, then looks back at Sherlock.

"The secret vaults? Is that what you want?"

I sigh softly, trying not to show my anger and lack of patience as I speak.

"We want everything you've got on Mary."

Magnussen lets out a short breathy laugh, shaking his head a little, then he lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his head and chuckles for a few seconds. John's mouth twists and he shoots a brief glance towards Sherlock. Eventually, Magnussen stops sniggering and looks down to the laptop, patting it and grimacing a little.

"You know, I honestly expected something good."

Sherlock shrugs.

"Oh, I think you'll find the contents of that laptop …"

"include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the theft, and security services will be converging on this house. Having arrived … they'll find top secret information in my hands ... and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I'll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated, and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Ms. Sociopath and Mr. and Mrs. Psychopath."

Magnusson looks at John, who holds his gaze, though his cheeks move as if he is gritting his teeth a little. Only once Magnussen starts talking again does John cast a quick glance at Sherlock.

"Mycroft has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He'll be a very, very proud big brother."

"The fact that you know it's going to happen isn't going to stop it."

"Then why am I smiling?"

I have to fit the urge to call Magnusson I snake, as he looks up at Sherlock and smiles a little. Sherlock looks at him thoughtfully.

"Ask me."

John takes one step towards him.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves ... and everything he holds dear."

He stands slowly.

"Let me show you the Appledore vaults."

He leads us across the room and through the open glass doors of the study. He walks across to the wooden doors at the side of the room and then turns back to the others, putting a hand on the doors.

"The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all."

He turns and takes hold of the door handles, then pulls the doors open. We are looking from inside the doors towards Magnussen and the other two as they look inside. Magnussen steps slowly through the doors, looking all around it. I look over to John how is standing on the other side of Sherlock, to see he is just as unsure about what we are seeing as well. After a moment Magnussen slowly begins to turn around. Inside the doors is nothing more than a small windowless room, painted white and brightly lit. It is no more than a few feet deep and the ceiling is about eight feet high. There are no shelves, no library stacks, no filing cabinets, no grotesque dolls, stuffed animals or sculptures. The only thing in the room is a metal and leather low-backed executive chair. As Magnussen slowly continues to turn around, Sherlock's eyes quickly skim around the whiteness, then his eyes go back to Magnussen. John is the first to make a comment.

"Okay. So where are the vaults, then?"

Magnusson looks to him as he sits down on the chair, then gestures around the room.

"Vaults? What vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building. They're all in here."

John frowns and blinks. Sherlock's eyes are wide as if he is beginning to realize the truth. Magnussen leans forward and slowly raises the fingers of his right hand to touch his temple.

"The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know about Mind Palaces, don't you, Sherlock? And I imagine you do as well Madison. How to store information so you never forget it – by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes … and down I go to my vaults. I can go anywhere inside my vaults … my memories. I'll look at the files on Mrs. Watson. Mmm, ah."

In the white room, he lifts his right hand as if lifting a folder out of the drawer. He sits back in the chair while he acts as if he is looking at the file.

"This is one of my favorites. Oh, it's so exciting."

Lowering his head in the white room with his eyes still closed, he moves his hands as if he is turning the pages inside the file. Sherlock lowers his head with a shocked look on his face while Magnussen chuckles quietly.

"All those wet jobs for the CIA. Ooh! She's gone a bit ... freelance now. Bad girl."

He turns the imaginary page and sniggers, holding up a finger, then chuckles even more, then turns another imaginary page, still smiling.

"Ah, she is so wicked. I can really see why you like her."

With both hands, he pushes the imaginary drawer closed again, he lifts both hands and turns them over, then opens his eyes and looks at Sherlock.

"See?"

John clears his throat.

"So there are no documents. You don't actually have anything here."

"Oh, sometimes I send out for something … If I really need it … but mostly I just remember it all."

John shakes his head.

"I don't understand."

"You should have that on a T-shirt."

"You just remember it all?"

" It's all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning."

"But if you just know it, then you don't have proof."

"Proof? What would I need proof for? I'm in news, you moron. I don't have to prove it – I just have to print it."

Sherlock's gaze is lowered and his expression suggests that he is fully aware of how badly he has miscalculated. Magnussen stands up and buttoning his jacket.

"Speaking of news, the three of you will be heavily featured tomorrow – trying to sell state secrets to me."

He tuts disapprovingly, then looks at his watch.

"Let's go outside. They'll be here shortly. Can't wait to see you arrested."

He walks out of the room and heads towards the glass doors. John watches him go, then steps closer to Sherlock and me.

"Sherlock, do we have a plan?"

Sherlock is fixed in place, still looking down towards the floor of the white room, his gaze unfocused. I sigh softly.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock still doesn't move, John turns and walks away. Sherlock shuts his eyes, screwing them closed with a look of despair. Magnussen walks across the sitting room to a glass door which leads out onto a patio. He goes outside and looks around. The sky is darkening, so apparently, it is early evening. John and I follow him out onto the patio.

"They're taking their time, aren't they?"

John stops behind him, not looking at him. While I stay a few feet away from him.

"I still don't understand."

"And there's the back of the T-shirt."

Sherlock has finally left the study and is walking slowly towards the patio door, stopping next to me. John turns his head to look at Magnussen, as Magnussen turns to face him as Sherlock walks out onto the patio and stops just outside the door.

" You just know things. How does that work? I just love your little soldier face. I'd like to punch it. Bring it over here a minute. Come on."

John stares back at him, his eyes wide. Before looking toward Sherlock and I. Very reluctantly and not meeting his eyes, Sherlock gives John a short nod, his face full of pain at having to do this.

"For Mary. Bring me your face."

John looks back to Magnussen, who nods slightly. Clearing his throat, John slowly takes two steps closer to him. Magnussen turns a little to face him, then leans down to him.

"Lean forward a bit and stick your face out."

John clears his throat again, adjusting his footing. Magnussen smirks at him.

"Please?"

John leans closer, chuckling. John locks his gaze on him while he does as instructed.

"Now, can I flick it?"

John snorts in disbelief, lowering his head and shaking it before raising it again.

"Can I flick your face?"

Pursuing his lips and looking at him again, John leans forward. Magnussen lifts his right hand with the back towards John, bends his middle finger under his thumb, holds his hand close to John's left cheek and then releases the middle finger to flick sharply against his cheek. John blinks instinctively and tilts his head at the man, still holding his gaze. Magnussen flicks his cheek again, then chuckles.

"I just love doing this."

He looks across to Sherlock, whose eyes are lowered, the pain still in his face. I take a deep breath, looking down as well, as Magnussen continues to flick John's face.

"I could do it all day. It works like this, John. I know who Mary hurt and killed. I know where to find people who hate her. I know where they live; I know their phone numbers. All in my Mind Palace – all of it. I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down – and I will ... unless you let me flick your face. This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries … just because I know.

He flicks him three times. Sherlock glares at him with his teeth bared. Magnusson flicks him again, then straightens up. Bending back down to John after a moment.

"Can I do your eye now?"

John turns his head a little, looking away, as Magnussen sighs.

"See if you can keep it open, hmm?"

Almost before John turns back to him, he flicks John's left eyebrow. John's eyes instinctively flinch closed. Magnussen sniggers and flicks his eyebrow again.

"Come on. For Mary. Keep it open."

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock speaks to John quietly, his voice apologetic.

"Let him. I'm sorry. Just ... let him."

John grimaces slightly, as Magnussen continues flicking his eye.

"Come on. Eye open."

With a bemused look on his face, he flicks John's eyebrow again, and again John's eyes flinch closed for a moment before he glares back at the man as he sniggers and flicks him again. He laughs as John breathes harshly.

"It's difficult, isn't it? Madison managed it once, and she makes the funniest noises, didn't you?"

He looks towards Sherlock. Who has a more stern look on his face now as he hears that Magnussen had done the same to me. The sound of an approaching helicopter can be heard. It soars over the roof and at the same time, armed police marksmen run towards the patio. The helicopter drops down to hover some yards away, its spotlight aimed towards the men on the patio. As they are buffeted by the wind from the rotors, Mycroft's voice blares out over a speaker on the helicopter.

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Madison Love. Stand away from that man."

Sherlock looks away. Magnussen looks over towards him.

"Here we go, Mr. Holmes!"

Sherlock speaks loudly over the noise of the hovering helicopter, stepping forward and walking to John's side.

"To clarify: Appledore's vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there.:

"They're not real. They have never been."

Mycroft gives the order to stand away from Magnussen again as I step back toward the door. Magnussen walks forward a couple of steps, waving his hands calmly at the helicopter.

"It's fine! They're harmless!"

The armed police continue moving into position, aiming their rifles towards the patio. John looks over at Sherlock.

"What do we do?

Magnussen looks over this shoulder.

"Nothing! There's nothing to be done! Oh, I'm not a villain. I have no evil plan. I'm a businessman, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them! Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes.

While John and I continue to stare towards the helicopter, Sherlock turns his head and looks at us and his gaze is penetrating and intense. Sherlock looks away, lowering his gaze but still with a determined look on it. Magnussen turns away from him. Mycroft gives his order yet again. As Sherlock steps toward.

"Oh, do your research. I'm not a hero ... I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas!

He steps closer to John, reaches round behind him and into John's coat pocket, then steps away again and walks forward towards Magnussen. He widens his eyes and glares at the man. He raises John's pistol, aims it at Magnussen's head and fires. As John recoils and even before Magnussen hits the ground, Sherlock drops the gun to the patio and turns towards the helicopter, raising his hands.

"Get away from me, John, Madison! Stay well back!"

John and I shout.

"Christ, Sherlock!"

As we raise our hands as well. Mycroft shouting over the loudspeaker.

"Stand Fire! Do not Fire on Sherlock Holmes! DO NOT FIRE!"

I sigh softly, trying to calm down as much as I can.  
"Oh, Christ Sherlock."

Keeping his hands raised, Sherlock looks around to us again. Looking to John then to me.

"Give my love to Mary. I love you."

John and I stare at him, in anguish.

He takes one final look at us and then turns towards the marksmen and the helicopter and begins to sink slowly to his knees. John holds his own hands high, his eyes full of despair. Sherlock kneels on the patio, his hands raised and his face anguished. The beams from the laser sights travel over his face as he stares ahead of himself, knowing that he has done something from which no-one can save him.


	29. Emelia Ricoletti

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

Emelia Ricoletti

It had been about a week since Sherlock had shot Magnusson and had been thrown into a jail cell. John, Mary, and I are in a black car, driving along the runway towards where an executive jet is stationary on the tarmac. Standing near the nose of the plane, Sherlock, Mycroft and a security man watch the car pull up. Mary and I get out of the rear door nearest the plane and John from the other. Smiling, Mary walks towards Sherlock, John and I following behind.

"You will look after them won't you?"

Mary smiles and puts her hands on Sherlock's shoulders, as they kiss each other's cheeks, then hug.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll keep them in trouble."

Sherlock smiles as she releases him and pulls back.

"That's my girl."

As Mary turns and walks back to where John and I have stopped a few paces away and takes his hand. John nods to Sherlock in greeting, and Sherlock turns to his brother.

"Since this is likely to be the last conversation I'll have with John Watson and Madison afterward, would you mind if we took a moment."

Mycroft looks a little startled but then glances over to the security man and jerks his head towards the side of the plane. The security man, Mycroft, and Mary walk along the side of the jet towards the wing and Sherlock turns to John, who smiles at him and nods.

"So, here we are."

Looking vaguely around the airfield Sherlock clears his throat and steps closer to John.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

"Sorry?"

"That's the whole of it. If you're looking for baby names."

John chuckles.

"No, we've had a scan. We're pretty sure it's a girl."

"Oh. okay."

They both look awkwardly anywhere except at each other for several seconds. Before John

vaguely, turning and looking across the airfield and turns towards Sherlock again.

"Actually, I can't think of a single thing to say."

"No, neither can I."

He lifts his head as John steps closer and speaks quietly.

"The game is over."

"The game is never over, John... but there may be some new players now. It's okay. The East Wind takes us all in the end."

"What's that?"

"It's a story my brother told me when we were kids. The East Wind – this horrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth. That was generally me."

"Nice."

"He was a rubbish big brother."

" So what about you, then? Where are you actually going to now?"

"Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe.

"For how long?"

"Six months, my brother estimates. He's never wrong."

"And then what?"

Sherlock meets his gaze for a moment, then looks down thoughtfully before raising his head and gazing off into the distance. He shrugs.

"Who knows."

John nods and then turns away to look across the airfield again, breathing in deeply. Sherlock looks directly at him until he turns back, then looks down again.

"John, there's something ... I should say; I-I've meant to say always and then never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now… Sherlock is actually a girl's name."

John turns away, giggling almost silently. Sherlock smiles at him. John turns back, still smiling.

"It's not."

"It was worth a try."

"We're not naming our daughter after you."

"I think it could work."

John chuckles then meets his eyes. Sherlock holds his gaze for a second, then lowers his eyes. After a moment he takes off his right glove and holds out his hand.

"To the very best of times, John."

John hesitates for a long while, then he finally takes Sherlock's hand and shakes it. They stand there for a couple of seconds, then Sherlock gives John's hand one more small pump before releasing it as he does John turns away walking back to Mary, as I step forward to Sherlock. I hug him tightly, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

"I wish they would let me go with you."

"Probably not the safest idea."

"Maybe not, but it's better than a life without you."

"Don't worry, Madison. I will think of you every day I'm away."

"Likewise."

I pull away from Sherlock, before giving him a kiss. Since it is probably the last I will ever give him, it a long and passionate kiss. I can hear Mycroft sighing and complaining a few feet away from us.

"I love you, Janessa Madison Moriarty."

"I love you. William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

Sherlock and I hold each other for a few more moments before we release each other and he turns away. John, Mary, and I watch him walk along the side of the plane to the steps and get on board. Shortly afterward the plane taxis along the runway. Sherlock sits inside looking out of one of the right-hand windows. Mary and John stand by the car, holding hands and watching from the left-hand side of the plane as it lifts into the sky. Sherlock continues to gaze out of the window, and the plane flies off into the distance. John and I stand and watch the plane as Mary goes back to get into the car.

"John… Madison… You're gonna wanna see this."

John and I turn, looking at each other confused. When we get back to the car and look at the screen in the back of the car. Seeing my brother on the screen.

"Did you missed me?"

Just repeating the question over and over. John and I lean against the car, in shock.

"I thought you said he died."

"He was."

"My brother blow his head off he is, without a doubt dead."

"Then how can he be back?"

"Well if he is he'd better wrap up warm. There's an east wind coming."

John straightens up as Sherlock's plane lands. As Mycroft steps in front of the stairs, he motions for us to come with him. The three of us do everything short of running to the plane. When we board, Sherlock is breathing heavily and staring up glassy-eyed.

"Well, a somewhat shorter exile than we'd imagined, brother mine, although adequate given your levels of OCD."

" I have to go back! I was ... I was nearly there! I nearly had it!"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

John steps on the plane behind me.

"Go back where? You didn't get very far."

"Ricoletti and his abominable wife! Don't you understand?"

Mary sits in the sit in front of Sherlock.

"No, of course, we don't. You're not making any sense, Sherlock."

Mycroft and I sit in the chairs across the aisle from Sherlock, looking to each other, knowing exactly what's going on, as Sherlock continues.

"It was a case, a famous one from a hundred years ago, lodged in my hard drive. She seemed to be dead but then she came back."

John shakes his head.

"What, like Moriarty?"

"Shot herself in the head, exactly like Moriarty."

Mary sighs.

" But you've only just been told. We've only just found out. He's on every TV screen in the country."

"Yes? So? It's been five minutes since Mycroft called. What progress have you made? What have you been doing?"

Sherlock looks over to Mycroft and me, as John scoffs.

"More to the point, what have you been doing?"

" I've been in my Mind Palace, of course... running an experiment: how would I have solved the crime if I'd been there in 1895?"

I drop my head into my hands and Mycroft shakes his head.

"Oh, Sherlock."

Looking angry and disappointed, Mycroft turns away. Mary takes Sherlock's phone from the shelf beside his seat and starts to look at it

"I had all the details perfect."

Mycroft sinks into a rear-facing seat on the other side of the aisle. He puts both hands on the handle of his umbrella and lowers his chin to rest it on them. Sherlock begins to flailing his hands.

"I was there, all of it, everything! I was immersed."

" Of course you were."

Mary looks down at Sherlock's phone.

"You've been reading John's blog – the story of how you met."

"Helps me if I see myself through his eyes sometimes. I'm so much cleverer."

Mycroft looks over to him.

"You really think anyone's believing you?"

John looks at Mycroft then back to Sherlock.

"No, he can do this. I've seen it – the Mind Palace. It's like a whole world in his head."

"Yes, and I need to get back there."

I shake my head.

"The Mind Palace is a memory technique. I know what it can do, and I know what it most certainly cannot."

"Maybe there are one or two things that I know that you two don't."

Mycroft nods and answers rather pointedly.

"Oh, there are. Did you make a list?"

Sherlock has looked away again and is chewing on a thumbnail. He turns to look at his brother again.

"You've put on weight. That waist coat's clearly newer than the jacket…"

"Stop this. Just stop it. Did you make a list?"

"Of what?"

"Everything, Sherlock. Everything you've taken."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns his head away, as John shakes his head.

"No, it's not that. He goes into a sort of trance. I've seen him do it."

Sherlock takes a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket, holds it out and drops it onto the floor. Mycroft lifts his eyes to John, who bends down and picks it up. Mycroft looks away as John unfolds the piece of paper and looks at what's written there, and his face fills with shock. He stares at Sherlock. Mycroft turns his face away.

"We have an agreement, my brother and I, ever since that day. Wherever I find him… whatever back alley or doss house there will always be a list."

Sherlock bites his lip. In a cutaway flashback, a much younger Sherlock is lying on a mattress on a floor. Nearby, candles are burning in bottles. Sherlock is writhing and grimacing under the influence of the drugs he's taken. Mycroft, apparently in his early/mid-twenties, is sitting on the mattress near his brother's feet and now reaches down to a piece of paper lying next to Sherlock's legs. John has sat down in the seat facing Mycroft and raises the piece of paper, as I stand and pace up and down the aisle.

"He couldn't have taken all of that in the last five minutes."

I shake my head.

"He was high before he got on the plane."

Mary has put Sherlock's phone back on the shelf and has now got out her own phone, typing rapidly on the phone.

"He didn't seem high."

"Nobody deceives like an addict. Trust me."

Sherlock sighs.

"I'm not an addict. I'm a user. I alleviate boredom and occasionally heighten my thought processes."

John shouts.

"For God's sake! This could kill you! You could die!"

"Controlled usage is not usually fatal, and abstinence is not immortality."

Mycroft has noticed that Mary is typing on the phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Emelia Ricoletti – I'm looking her up."

"Ah, I suppose we should. I have access to the top level of the MI5 archive…"

"Yep, that's where I'm looking."

Mary smiles without looking up. Mycroft looks slightly awkward.

"What do you think of MI5's security?"

Mary raises her eyebrows and looking across to him partway through her next sentence.

"I think would be a good idea."

She smiles at him, then looks back down to the phone.

"Emelia Ricoletti. Unsolved ... like he says."

Sherlock has bowed his head and now lowers it into his hands. Mary nods towards him, as he raises his head with his eyes closed.

"Could you all just shut up for five minutes? I have to go back. I was nearly there before you stepped on and starting yapping away."

John answers him dumfounded.

"Sorry – did we interrupt your session?"

Mycroft leans forward.

"Sherlock, Listen to me."

"No, it only encourages you."

I sigh.

"Then listen to me."

I begin to yell at Sherlock as Mycroft puts his hand up.

"I'm not angry with you."

"Oh, that's a relief. I was really worried. No, hold on. I really wasn't."

"I was there for you before. I'll be there for you again. I'll always be there for you. This was my fault."

"It was nothing to do with you."

"A week in a prison cell. I should have realized."

"Realized what?"

"That is your case, solitary confinement is locking you up with your worst enemy."

Sherlock sighs and rolls his head back.

"Oh for God's sake. What did you say?"

Sherlock raises his head and turns to frown at John.

"I didn't say anything."

"No, you did. You said, Which is it today – morphine or cocaine? Holmes?"

Sherlock falls back unconscious with this statement and I sigh softly.

"Mycroft, call for an ambulance. You're brother's overdosed."

Mycroft looks up to me a little confused as Mary and I step forward to make sure he's alright.

"Why is he my brother when he's done something like these?"

"Because I'm never sure that we're going to be together much longer after he does stuff like this."

An ambulance takes a Sherlock to hospital. Mycroft and I ride with him, while John and Mary ride in the black car we had arrived in. When Sherlock wakes he still not making any sense. Mary is sitting a short distance away and peering at him, and John is leaning over him and shining a penlight into his right eye. Mycroft and I are sitting at Sherlock's bedside.

"And there he is. Thought we'd lost you for a moment. May I just check: is this what you mean by "controlled usage"?"

"Mrs. Emelia Ricoletti. I need to know where she was buried."

"What, a hundred and twenty years ago?!"

"Yes."

"That would take weeks to find if those records even exist. Even with my resources…"

Mary had quickly pulled up the information on her phone.

"Got it."

Reluctantly we take Sherlock to Emelia Ricoletti's grave. John sighs, standing arm in arm with Mary.

"I don't get it. How is this relevant?"

"I need to know I was right, then I'll be sure."

Mary shakes her head.

"You mean how Moriarty did it?"

"Yes."

I rub my forehead and shake my head.

"But none of that really happened. It was in your head."

"My investigation was the fantasy. The crime happened exactly as I explained."

"The stone was erected by a group of her friends."

Mycroft shakes his head.

"I don't know what you think you'll find here."

"I need to try!"

Shortly afterward, Sherlock is standing beside Emelia's grave holding the spade. The others are standing on the path at the foot of the grave and some of the police officers are nearby, one of them also holding a spade.

"Mrs. Ricoletti was buried here, but what happened to the other one, the corpse they substituted for her after the so-called suicide?"

"They'd move it. Of course, they would."

"But where?"

"No here!"

"But that ... that's exactly what they must have done. The conspirators had someone on the inside. They found a body, just like Molly Hooper found a body for me when I …"

John throws him a dark look and Mary raises her eyes to the heavens. Sherlock stops abruptly.

"Yeah, well, we don't need to go into all that again, do we?"

He shifts his grip on the spade, ready to start digging.

"You're not seriously gonna do this?"

"It's why we came here! I need to know."

"Spoken like an addict."

"This is important to me!"

John shakes his head.

"No – this is you needing a fix."

"John…"

"Moriarty's back. We have a case! We have a real-life problem right now."

"Getting to that! It's next on the list! Just let me do this."

"No, everyone always lets you do whatever you want. That's how you got in this state."

"John, please…"

"I'm not playing this time, Sherlock, not anymore. When you're ready to go to work, give me a call."

Sherlock looks up to me and I shake my head.

"Darling, I'm all for supporting you when you're sober. But not when you're like this."

Sherlock nods and looks down as John takes Mary's arm.

"I'm taking the girls home."

"You're what?"

"The girls are taking me home."

"Better."

John, Mary, and I walk away from the graveyard, getting back to the car. When we do Mary rubs my arm.

"Do you want to stay with us until he sober's up?"

I smile softly and nod.

"If you guys don't mind."

John shakes his head and hugs me tightly, putting my head in his shoulder.

"Not at all. You're family."


	30. Baby Watson

Chapter Thirty

Baby Watson.

It had been about three months since Sherlock's episode on the plane and he had been cleared of all charges in Magnusson's murder. I guess they doctored the footage of the incident to make it look like one of the officers had shot Magnusson, instead of Sherlock. Honestly, his little episode I'm not sure if I'm happy is back or not. But Sherlock has assured John, Mary, and myself that he will be able to go cold-turkey since he had to focus on this new case. Which involves my brother, who should be and is dead.

After spending about a week with John and Mary after Sherlock episode, I finally forgave Sherlock and went back to the flat. I had almost started looking for a new flat. Sherlock had been spinning cases as if they were plates since he got back to keep himself busy, of course, that meant I was busy too and didn't have time to really think about his previous episode since I got back to the flat. As I walk into the sitting room Sherlock is stabbing his multi-tool knife down into a large pile of letters on the mantelpiece.

"If this gets any better, I'm gonna get two knives."

I sigh softly and shake my head.

"Mrs. Hudson is gonna kill you if you do any more damage to her mantelpiece."

I look over to John, who is sitting at the table typing a new blog entry entitled "221Back!"

"It pays to advertise."

Sherlock sits down in his chair, looking at his phone. Mary, standing near the window and rubbing her very pregnant tummy with one hand while pressing her lower back with the other, looks at him.

"So, what about Moriarty, then?"

"Oh, he has a plan."

I sigh softly, a little annoyed that my brother is finding a way to ruin my life, even from the grave, as Mary rubs her bump again.

"I'm going to monitor the underworld – every quiver of the web will tell me when the spider makes his move."

"So your 'plan' is just to sit there solving crimes, with Madison, like you always do."

John looks over at Sherlock from his computer. Sherlock smiles across to him.

"Awesome isn't it?!"

Sherlock jumps up, steps across to the mantelpiece and rips the top letter off the pile. Over the next few months, Sherlock goes to work on several cases at once. There was even one night that John and Mary had come over to see if we were over to visit and ask Sherlock and me to be godparents, and I was the only one who paid any attention. Mary had even tried several times to get Sherlock's attention, but that at this point in her pregnancy she was too tired to really push the way she normally does.

One night the boys had been out working on a case and were coming back to the flat to start work on another. When they get to the door, I almost run into them since Mary had called me about going into labor and John and Sherlock had the car.

"What is the hurry, Madison?"

I shout to John as I head down the stairs.

"Check your phone and come on."

"Fifty-nine missed calls."

"Oh, we are in a lot of trouble."

When we finally get Mary and start to the hospital, Sherlock is in the back with her. In hindsight probably not the best idea, but hey, she didn't give us a lot of time to move around. Mary is in the back seat of a car groaning and clutching her abdomen. Her dress is pulled high up her legs.

"Oh my god!"

I turn back in my seat to see that Sherlock is on his phone, why I don't know, but he is. So I undo my seatbelt and turn around completely in the front passenger seat.

"Mary, it's gonna be fine, just breathe, Relax."

"I'm a nurse, I think I know what to do."

"Come on… Re"

I do the breathing with Mary.

"Lax"

"No, just drive! Please, God, just drive! God, drive!"

She screams. Sherlock, sitting beside her and frantically typing on his phone, glances across to her momentarily. John sighs loudly.

"Sherlock, Mary."

"That's it, Mary. Re.."

"Don't you start."

Mary shakes her head and comments savagely, now kneeling on the seat.

"Lax."

Moments later Sherlock's face is squashed hard against the side window as Mary slams her hand against the side of his head. I have to keep myself from laughing as I take her hand, and she braces her other hand against Sherlock's head.

"John, I think you have to pull over."

"Mary, Mary…"

She shifts back into a sitting position.

"PULL OVER!"

Sherlock looks down towards Mary's legs and his mouth falls open and his eyes widen in horror.

"Oh my god."

Mary screams and then sobs. John glances over his shoulder and starts to pull the car to the curb as Mary continues to scream. I lean over to Mary, taking her hand.

"John, keep driving. Mary, look at me. Okay, breath. A little while longer in pain, for a lifetime of happiness. Just breath."

I manage to calm Mary down and keep her attention off of the pain long enough for John to get to the hospital. When we get to the hospital, Sherlock and I wait in the waiting room until John comes out to get us.

"It's a baby girl! I have a daughter!"

I smile brightly as John pulls me into a bear hug.

"Congratulations."

Once he lets go of me, he turns to Sherlock, giving him a hug. While he isn't sure how to feel about John and Mary having a baby, he knows that he is happy for them.

"Congrats, John. Give our love to Mary."

I scoff.

"I don't know about you, but I'm gonna see how Mary is going. If that's alright with you John."

"Yeah, of course. She is in room 207."

I nod and head to Mary's room. When I get there she is laying in the bed, clearly tired, and covered in sweat.

"Mary?"

As I call out to her she looks over to me.

"Maddie! Hi."

"How are you feeling."

"Much better, happy I finally got to meet my little girl."

"I bet. Well, I won't take up any more of your time. And Sherlock and I will meet her in a few days when you get to take her home."

"You'll bring Mrs. Hudson too?"

"Of course, she'll be so excited. I'll see you later. Rest."

Mary nods and smiles as I leave the room again. A few days later Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, and I are gathered at John and Mary's flat. Mary and John are sitting on the sofa, Mary cradling their new daughter. Helium balloons are floating on strings behind the sofa and there are gift bags and flowers on the coffee table in front of the family, and a large white teddy bear beside the sofa. A glass of champagne is also on the table. John has his arm around his wife while Mary is holding her daughter's hand and the new parents are smiling as they pose for the photograph. Standing on the other side of the table, Molly Hooper is drinking from a glass of champagne and Mrs. Hudson is taking another photograph with her camera.

"Has that come out?"

She looks at the screen on her camera and makes an exasperated noise.

"They never come out when I take them!"

Molly sits her glass down and takes the camera.

"Let's have a look."

Mrs. Hudson looks over to John and Mary.

"Aww, she's so beautiful."

Molly fiddles with the camera and then hands it back.

"Here, have another go."

Sherlock and I are standing a short distance away, and Sherlock is engrossed in his phone. I shake my head and step forward.

"Have you decided on a name?"

John looks up and nods.

"Catherine."

"Uh, yeah, we've gone off that."

"Have we?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

I laugh softly as Mary corrects John. Sherlock doesn't look up from his phone.

"You know what I think."

John, Mary, and I respond simultaneously.

"It's not a girls name."

Sherlock smiles, his eyes still fixed on his phone, as John smiles up to Mrs. Hudson and Molly.

"Molly, Mrs. H. We have already asked this of Sherlock and Madison, but we would love you to be godparents."

As the two of them make appreciative noises, John stands up while Molly goes to the sofa to sit down next to Mary. John walks over towards Sherlock, who is texting.

"Sherlock?"

I shake my head.

"Don't bother, he's so deep in thought I couldn't even get him to look up from his phone last night."

"How hard did you try."

Sherlock takes a deep breath.

"Not hard enough apparently."

Some weeks later we are at the baptism for baby Watson, an elderly vicar stands at the font in a church. Mary and John stand near him, Mary cradling the baby, and Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, and Molly are on the other side of the font. An older couple stands behind them. Could this be the famous Stella and Ted, ready to give 'love and many big squishy cuddles' to the new baby?! Sherlock is still busy on his phone.

"Father, we ask you to send your blessings on this water... and sanctify it for our use this day, in Christ's name. Now, what name have you given your daughter?"

Mary and John smile at each other, then Mary turns to the vicar.

"Rosamund Mary."

Sherlock frowns, looking up briefly.

"Rosamund?"

I lean over and whisper to him softly.

"It means, 'rose of the world.' Rosie for short."

Rosamund wails briefly. Sherlock throws a disapproving look in my direction and then goes back to his phone. Molly leans back, slightly turning to Sherlock.

"Didn't you get John's text?"

"No, I delete his texts, I delete any text that begins, with him."

I sigh softly.

"I have no idea why people think you're incapable of human emotion."

Mrs. Hudson clears her throat pointedly.

"Sherlock, phone."

Sherlock lowers the phone and puts his hands behind his back. The vicar is now holding Rosamund, who is grizzling.

"And now, godparents are you ready to help the parents of this child in their duties as Christian parents?"

Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and I answer, simultaneously.

"We are."

I look over to Sherlock and elbows him. Behind his back, a male SIRI voice speaks from his phone.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that. Please repeat the question."

Stella and Ted, whom Sherlock and I had met at the wedding, make disapproving noises. John closes his eyes and Mary narrows her eyes at Sherlock.

A few months later, John and Mary had brought Rosie over to the flat since I had offered to watch her while they get some sleep, however, Sherlock seems to be interested in taking care her. Standing in front of the fireplace wearing his camel colored dressing gown, Sherlock sighs in exasperation.

"As ever, Watson, you see but do not observe. To you, the world remains an impenetrable mystery whereas, to me, it is an open book. Hard logic versus romantic whimsy. That is your choice. You fail to connect actions to their consequences. Now, for the last time ... if you want to keep the rattle… do not throw the rattle, hm?"

He bends down and picks up a jingling baby's rattle. Presenting it to Rosie, as she gurgles, takes it, and promptly throws it in Sherlock's face. I laugh softly from the kitchen doorway, being Sherlock a cuppa tea.

"Here, let me sit with her for a minute."

I smile softly as Rosie, after handing Sherlock his tea. Picking up the rattle off the floor and shaking it in front of Rosie, as I do she laughs and claps her hands, or as much as she can. Sherlock sighs, taking a sip of his tea.

"She clearly likes you more than me."

"Sherlock, she is three months old, here in a little while we'll be lucky if she doesn't call us ma and da when she starts calling those that."

I point across the room, Mary is lying on the sofa fast asleep with one foot up on John's lap as he sits at the other end with his hand on her leg, also asleep. Rosie rears her head back and then sneezes.

"Oh bless you, princess."

"Maybe this is just practice for me."

"For what?"

"If we ever decide to have children."


	31. The Ghost Driver

Chapter Thirty-One

The Ghost Driver

In the three or four months since Mary had Rosie, Sherlock and I had been pitching in to help John and Mary, either when they needed real sleep or they needed to go to work or something, and as a result, the boys haven't had time to go on a case. They hadn't really even looked, I'm sure Sherlock's email has been blowing up but none of us have checked it. Which is why Greg decided to bring us a case one afternoon when Mary is watching Rosie. She and I had agreed that the boys needed to find a new case, for all of us.

I had gotten a text from Mary, telling me that John was on his way over to start looking for a case, since we had convinced the boys it was okay for them to start working again. It's a good thing John is already on his way because shortly after I get Mary's text, Greg comes into the flat.

"Sherlock. Hey, Madison."

"Hey, Greg."

Greg and I greet each other with a hug.

"You may wanna get John over here. We've got a good one."

"I'm sure he's already on his way here."

Sherlock looks at me confused.

"How do would you know that?"

"It's John. He isn't that hard to predict." 

Sherlock shrugs.

"I should test that theory sometime."

We don't have to wait for too long before John arrives and hurries up the stairs. Stopping in the doorway, once he sees Greg in the middle of the room.

"Greg. What's going on?"

"I've got a good one for you three."

John enters the flat and goes to sit in h

is chair, Sherlock was already in his, honestly, I don't think he ever moves from that spot, I sit on the arm of Sherlock's chair, like normal, while Greg pulls a chair out from the table.

"It was David Welsborough's fiftieth birthday and he had gotten a call from his son, but the call dropped. A week later, something really weird happened."

As Greg says 'something really weird,' a grin comes across Sherlock's face. This will be good for him. The first case in months and it's a weird one, oh joy.

"Drunk driver, he's totally smashed, the cops are chasing him and he turns into the drive of the Welsborough house to try and get away. Unfortunately, he ran into the Welsborough's son's car and it exploded. The drunk guy survived; they managed to pull him out, but when they put the fire out and examined the parked car, they found a body."

John leans forward in his chair.

"Whose body?" 

"Charlie Welsborough, the son."

"What?"

"The son who was in Tibet. DNA all checks out. The night of the party, the car's empty, then a week later the dead boy's found at the wheel."

Sherlock shakes his head closing his eyes, chuckling softly to himself. As he does I elbow him softly. Greg nods and looks over to him.

"Yeah, I thought it'd tickle you."

"Have you got a lab report?"

Greg had already been reaching for his briefcase at his side and now puts it on his lap and takes out some folders.

"Yeah, Charlie Welsborough's the son of a Cabinet minister, so I'm under a lot of pressure to get results."

I take a deep breath.

"Do you have anything on the seats?"

"The seats?"

Sherlock nods, opening his eyes.

"Yes, the car seats."

John takes the sheet of paper which Greg is offering him. Sherlock sits up and holds out his hand and Greg gives him a folder. Sherlock opens it and the two of us look over the contents.

"Made of vinyl."

"Two different types of vinyl."

I look up to Greg.

"You said it was Charlie's car."

Greg shakes his head.

"Yeah. Not flash… He was a student."

Sherlock sits back in his chair.

"Well, that's suggestive."

"I agree."

Greg looks over at us.

"Why?"

"Vinyl's cheaper than leather."

"Yeah, right."

John shakes his head and scoffs.

"There's something else."

"Yes."

John looks at the documents Greg gave him, before handing them to Sherlock.

"According to this, Charlie had already been dead for a week."

Sherlock hands the paper back to me.

"What?"

"He's right. The body in the car… dead for a week."

"Oh, this is a good one. Is it my birthday? You want help?"

Greg draws a breath.

"Yes, please."

"One condition."

"Okay."

"Take all the credit."

John and I look at Sherlock, a thrown off by his statement.

"It gets boring if I just solve them all."

"Yeah, you say that, but then John blogs about it and you get all the credit anyway."

John and I laugh, as I had the medical report back to Greg.

"He's got a point, Sherlock."

"Which makes me look like some kind of prima donna who insists on getting credit for something he didn't do."

John chuckles.

"Oh, I think you've hit a sore spot, Sherlock."

Sherlock looks startled and shakes his head at John as if he doesn't understand. Greg shakes his head.

"like I'm some kind of credit junkie."

"Definitely a sore spot."

"So you take all the glory, thanks"

Sherlock still looks bewildered.

"Okay."

"Thanks, all the same. Look, just solve the bloody thing, will you? It's driving me nuts."

"Anything you say, Giles."

John, Greg and give him the same look of what the heck. He just smiles at Greg.

"Just kidding."

As Greg starts packing away his paperwork, Sherlock turns and mouths to John. Greg looks up from his briefcase as Sherlock lowers his head a little, looking towards the floor. Greg looks suspiciously across to John.

"It's obvious, though, isn't it, what happened?"

"John, you amaze me. You know what happened?"

"Not a clue. But you two do."

I shrug.

"Maybe."

We stand and head to the door, Sherlock takes off his dressing gown as he goes.

"let's help you solve your little problem, Greg."

Greg smiles brightly, that is the first time Sherlock has ever called or referred to him as the correct name as long as I've known the two of them. John and Greg step out of the sitting room, and Sherlock and I after them.

"So how's it been going, fatherhood?"

"Oh good, great! Yeah, amazing."

"Getting any sleep?"

"Christ, no. Even with Madison watching her once a week so we can, our sleep schedule is thrown to far off to sleep at night now anyway.

"You're at the beck and call of a screaming, demanding baby, woken up at all hours to obey his every whim. Must feel very different."

He gestures back to Sherlock. John lowers his head to try and hide his smile and follows Greg down the stairs. Sherlock looks at them confused.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Yes, well, you know how it is. All you do is clean up their mess, pat them on the head."

"Are you three having a little joke?"

"Never a word of thanks. Can't even tell people's faces apart."

"This is a joke, isn't it?"

Greg chuckles.

"Then it's all, 'Ooh, aren't you clever? You're so, so clever!'"

Sherlock stops on the bottom step while John follows Greg to the front door and takes his jacket from the coat hooks.

"Is it about me?"

"I think he needs winding. You know, I think that really might be it."

(Winding means that he needs burping.)

Greg nods, still laughing.

"Madison, you're gonna be a great mom."

I laugh as Sherlock shakes his head.

"No, don't get it."

We make our way to the Welsborough house, walking along the drive towards the house. Greg starts to warn Sherlock about the families condition.

"Charlie's family are pretty cut up about it, as you'd expect, so go easy on them, yeah?"

"You know me."

"We do, that's why he said that."

As we walk up the driveway John's phone goes off. When he answers it I can hear Mary's voice since it was a skype call.

"Hey, Hello!"

"Got 'em, don't worry. Pamper; the cream you can't get from Boots."

"Yeah, never mind about that. Where are you now? At the dead boy's house?"

"Yeah."

"And what do they think? Any theories?"

"Well, I texted you the details."

"Yeah, two different types of vinyl."

Sherlock looks around and snatches John's phone from him.

"Hey!"

Sherlock and I look at the screen.

"How do you know about that?"

"Oh, you'd be amazed at what a P.A. picks up. They know everything!"

I chuckle softly since Sherlock has no idea I texted Mary information about the case, and clearly don't get her little joke.

"Solved it, then?"

"I'm working on it, Maddie."

Sherlock scoffs.

"Oh, Mary, motherhood's slowing you down."

"Pig!"

"Keep trying."

Sherlock hands the phone back to John as we approach the front door. As we walk up the stairs, I notice that the motion sensor on the porch light is broken, as we walk in I can still hear Mary talking.

"So, what about it, then? What, an empty car that suddenly has a week-old corpse in it? And what are you gonna call this one?"

"Ooh, the ... uh, The Ghost Driver."

Sherlock stops in the hall.

"Don't give it a title."

"People like the titles.

"I hate the titles."

"Give the people what they want."

"No, never do that. People are stupid."

Mary scoffs over the phone.

"Some people!"

Sherlock leans over to look into the camera.

"All people are stupid. ... Most people."

He straightens up again. As Greg speaks, John smiles and then winks into the camera and then shuts the phone off.

"Bizarre enough, though, isn't it, to be him? I mean, it's right up your strasse."

Sherlock throws him a look and then heads towards a nearby closed door. A man opens it and leads into a room where a man and woman are sitting in the on the sofa. Sherlock stops in front of them and shakes their hands.

"Mr. and Mrs. Welsborough. I really am most terribly sorry to hear about your daughter."

I shake my head and step next to Sherlock.

"Son."

"Son…"

Greg takes a deep breath.

"Mr. and Mrs. Welsborough, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Mr. Welsborough stands.

"Thank you very much for coming. We've heard a great deal about you. If anyone can throw any light into this darkness, surely it will be you."

"Well, I believe that I… can…"

He glances to his right and trails off when something catches his attention.

Mr. Welsborough begins speaking to us, although I'm sure Sherlock isn't paying any attention.

"But Charlie was our whole world, Mr. Holmes. I can't begin to tell how what it means that you are here, helping us figure out what happened to our boy."

Sherlock is now totally focussed on a small round table in front of the window. At the back of the table is a framed large white card on a stand; the card is an invitation to Mr. Welsborough to attend a reception at 10 Downing Street, sent by Margaret Thatcher when she was Prime Minister. In front of it to the left is a framed official photograph of Thatcher and to the right is a framed photo of her and Mr. Welsborough. In front of the solo Thatcher photo is a small commemorative plate with a painting of her, and in front of the other picture is the small painted figurine. As I look over the table I notice what has gotten Sherlock's attention, there is a space between the plate and the figurine and sees that the leather cover of the table that is scuffed.

I shake my head before I can go down the rabbit hole that Sherlock has gone down.

"Sherlock?"

The Welsboroughs look towards the window, then turn back to Sherlock.

"Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock gasps in a small breath and turns to them.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

"Well, Charlie was our whole world, Mr. Holmes. I ... I don't think we'll ever get over this"

Sherlock nods and turns his head toward the table again.

"No, shouldn't think so."

I scold him under my breath.

"Sherlock…!"

The Welsboroughs look at him, startled at his indifferent tone. He continues to stare at the table, frowning, then pulls in another breath and looks at the couple.

"So sorry. Will you excuse me a moment? I just…"

He turns and walks closer to the table. David looks at John, Greg, and I.

"I'll just, umm.."

I clear my throat, following Sherlock, who stops in front of the table and looks down at it. The Welsboroughs sit down and I walk to Sherlock's side, speaking to him in a hushed tone.

"Sherlock."

"I'm not sure what is missing here, I just…"

"Now is not the time."

"You see it too don't you?"

"Of course, I see it. I see everything you see, but now is not the time."

John walks over to us.

"Seriously, now?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Intuitions are not to be ignored, John. They represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend."

He turns to the Welsboroughs while pointing to the table.

"What is this?"

"Oh, it's a sort of shrine, I suppose, really."

Mr. Welsboroughs stands up and walks over to us.

"Bit of a fan of Mrs. T. Big hero of mine when I was getting started."

Sherlock smiles politely at him while he takes his magnifier from his pocket and clicks it open.

"Right, yes."

He bends down to look more closely at the table, then frowns and straightens up again

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who-who is this?"

"Are you serious?"

John clears his throat and speaks to Sherlock quietly but sternly.

"Sherlock."

Mr. Welsborough looks between the three of us.

"It's… it's Margaret Thatcher, the first female prime minister of this country."

"Right."

Sherlock bends down to look at the table again but straightens up, again.

"Prime minister?"

"Mm. The leader of the government."

"Right."

He squats down again, then lifts his head.

"Female."

I shake my head.

"For God's sake. You know perfectly well who she is."

Mr. Welsborough walks away and John steps closer.

"Why are you playing for time?"

I shake my head

"It's the gap."

Sherlock nods and turns to John.

"Look at the gap, it's wrong. Everything else is perfectly ordered, managed… This whole thing's verging on OCD."

Mr. Welsborough sits down next to his wife and looks across to Greg, who shrugs. Sherlock turns to look at the Welsboroughs, pointing back to the table.

"My respects. This figurine is routinely repositioned after the cleaner's been in. This picture's straightened every day, yet this ugly gap remains. Something's missing from here, but only recently."

He squats down again to focus on the scratched leather. Mrs. Welsborough finally speaks, exasperatedly.

"Oh, for God's sake. It got broken. What the hell has this got to do with Charlie?"

Sherlock straightens up and speaking loudly as he clicks his magnifier closed.

"Rug."

"What?"

"Well, how could it get broken? The only place for it to fall is the floor, and there is a big thick rug."

"Does that matter?"

I step forward.

"Mrs. Welsborough, my apologies. It is worth letting him do this."

"Is your husband quite mad?"

Before I can answer I hear Sherlock.

"Not married."

I take a deep breath.

"No, he's an arsehole, but it's an easy mistake."

Mr. Welsborough steps toward Sherlock.

"Look, no, we had a break-in. Some little bastard smashed it to bits. We found the remains out there in the porch."

"The porch where we came in?"

"How anybody could hate her so much, they'd go to the trouble of smashing her likeness…"

"I'm no expert but, er, possibly her face? Why didn't he smash all the others? Perfect opportunity, and look at that one. She's smiling in that one."

"Oh, Inspector, this is clearly a waste of time. I mean, if there's nothing more…"

"I know what happened to your son."

The Welsboroughs stop dead in their tracks, staring at him, hopefully.

"You do?"

"It's quite simple. Superficial, to be blunt. But first, tell me: the night of the break-in. This room was in darkness?"

"Well, yes."

"And the porch where it was smashed: I noticed the motion sensor was damaged, so I assume it's permanently lit."

Greg looks to him confused.

"How did you notice that?"

"I lack the arrogance to ignore details. I'm not the police. I assumed you noticed it too Madison."

I nod.

"Yes, I did."

John shakes his head.

"So you're saying he smashed it where he could see it."

"Exactly."

"Why?"

"Dunno. Wouldn't be fun if we knew." 

Mrs. Welsborough takes a shaky breath.

"Please, please…"

Sherlock straightens up and turns towards them. He takes a breath, speaking to them in his normal quick-fire manner.

"It was your fiftieth birthday, Mr. Welsborough; of course you were disappointed that your son hadn't made it back from his gap year. After all, he was in Tibet."

"Yes?"

"No."

"No"

"The first part of your conversation was, in fact, pre-recorded video. Easily arranged. The trick was meant to be a surprise. There were two types of vinyl in the burnt-out remains of the car: one the actual passenger seat; the other a good copy. Well, good enough. Effectively a costume. What he wanted was for you to get close enough to the car so he could spring the surprise. That's when it happened."

I put a hand up, to stop Sherlock. I figure it would be better for the Welsborough to hear the news from someone who can put some emotion in their voice.

"Mr. and Mrs. Welsborough, we can't be certain, of course, but I think Charlie must have suffered some sort of a seizure. You said he'd felt unwell?"

"Yes."

"It's likely that he died there and then. No-one had any cause to go near his car, so there he remained in the driver's seat hidden until the accident. When the two cars were examined, the fake seat had melted in the fire, revealing Charlie, who'd been sitting there for a week."

Mrs. Welsborough breaks down in tears.

"Oh, God!"

Staring up at us, Mr. Welsborough reaches out to comfort her. Greg shakes his head.

"Poor kid."

Sherlock steps up beside me.

"Really, I'm so sorry. Mr. Welsborough, Mrs. Welsborough."

He walks rapidly out of the room and is soon examining the concrete on the porch with his magnifier. John, Greg, and I wait a few moments before going after him. Greg looks to Sherlock and I.

"That was amazing."

"What?"

"The car, the kid."

"Ancient history. Why are you still talking about it?"

John sighs.

"What's so important about a broken bust of Margaret Thatcher?"

Sherlock straightens up.

"Can't stand it. Never can. There's a loose thread in the world."

"Yeah, doesn't mean you have to pull on it."

"What kind of a life would that be? Besides, I have the strangest feeling."

Sherlock shakes his head as he stands, pointing to the black cab parked.

"That's mine, you three take a… bus."

John laughs, in disbelief.

"Why?"

"I need to concentrate, and I don't want to hit you."


	32. Toby

Chapter Twenty-Two

Toby

It had been about a month since we had gone dealt with The Ghost Drive case, as John called it, Sherlock still wasn't happy with the name but he got over it when we started getting other cases. We start on one with a man who was asking if his wife was up to anything since she thought she was too good for him. We were trying to listen to him up we kept hearing Greg and Detective Hopkins outside the door, Hopkins was one of the detectives Sherlock had helped while he was spinning plates while Mary was pregnant. Unable to focus due to hearing them talking Sherlock gets up from his seat and walks over to the door and opens it.

"Will you two keep please kept it down?"

He slams the door closed before crossing back to his chair. I am sitting next to him in one of the chairs at the table.

"Now, you haven't always been in life insurance, have you? You started out in manual labor."

The man opens his mouth in surprise.

"Oh, don't bother being astonished. Your right hand's almost an entire size bigger than your left. Hard manual work does that."

The man nods.

"I was a carpenter, uh, like my dad."

"And you're trying to give up smoking, unsuccessfully, and you once had a Japanese girlfriend that meant a lot to you but now you feel indifferent about."

The man nods and looks down into the pocket on his shirt and the several small cylindrical items in it. He smiles across to Sherlock.

"E-cigarettes."

"Not just that – ten individual e-cigarettes. Now, if you just wanted to smoke indoors, you would have invested in one of those irritating electronic pipe things, but you're convinced you can give up, so you don't want to buy a pipe because that means you're not serious about quitting, so instead you buy individual cigarettes, always sure that each will be your last. Anything to add, John?"

Sherlock glances briefly towards John's chair, then does a startled double-take.

"John?"

Floating at seated head height in John's chair is a red balloon with a face drawn on it. The eyebrows are tilted inquiringly and the face has an impressed smile. The balloon is held in place by a piece of string wrapped around a book propped up on the seat. A moment later the real John pops his head around the kitchen door.

I laugh softly.

"Sherlock John hasn't been there for like two hours."

John nods.

"Yeah, but I'm listening."

Sherlock frowns, then glances briefly towards the client.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You know I value your little contributions."

"Yeah? It's been there since nine this morning."

"Where were you?"

"Helping Mrs. H with her Sudoku."

The client looks over to Sherlock.

"What about my girlfriend?"

"What?"

"You said I had an ex."

"You've got a Japanese tattoo in the crook of your elbow in the name 'Akako.' It's obvious you've tried to have it removed. If she'd really hurt your feelings, you would have had the word obliterated, but the first attempt wasn't successful and you haven't tried again, so it seems you can live with the slightly blurred memory of Akako, hence the indifference."

"Sorry. I-I thought you'd done something clever. No, no. Ah, but now you've explained it, it's dead simple, innit?"

The side of John's mouth twitches up into a smile. Sherlock pulls in a long breath, straightening up in his seat as he turns more towards the client, then he breathes out deeply through his nose.

"I've withheld this information from you until now, Mr. Kingsley, but I think it's time you knew the truth."

"What?"

"Have you ever wondered if your wife was a little bit out of your league? As I do, from time to time, with my lovely Madison here. You thought she was having an affair. I'm afraid it's far worse than that. Your wife is a spy. That's right. Her real name is Greta Bengtsdotter. Swedish by birth and probably the most dangerous spy in the world. She's been operating deep undercover for the past four years now as your wife for one reason only: to get near the American embassy which is across the road from your flat. Tomorrow the US president will be at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment inside her padded armpit. This drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new master, none other than James Moriarty."

John and I look at Sherlock as if he is crazy, as he continues.

"Moriarty will then use the president as a pawn to destabilize the United Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, tipping the balance in favor of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove unstoppable, thus precipitating… World War Three."

John chuckles softly.

"Are you serious?"

"No, of course not. His wife left him because his breath stinks."

Sherlock and I stand and walk towards the door, as I stop in the middle of the room.

"and he likes to wear her lingerie."

"I don't!"

John quirks a look at him.

"Just the bras."

Sherlock nods, opening the door.

"Get out."

Kingsley stands up and leaves the room, walking between the waiting inspectors. Sherlock pushes the door shut again. John looks up at him, confused.

"What's this all about, then?"

Sherlock shrugs.

"Having fun."

"Fun?"

"While I can."

"Mm-hm."

There's a knock on the door and Hopkins opens it and comes in.

"Sherlock."

"Borgia Pearl, boring, go."

"Uh, but, uh…"

He turns her around and pushes her towards the landing.

"Go!"

He pushes the door shut. Immediately Greg opens it and comes in. Sherlock looks exasperated.

"Oh, this had better be good."

"Oh, I think you'll like it."

From the paper bag, he produce

s a clear plastic bag and holds it up. Inside are shattered pieces of white plaster, and some of the larger pieces show that this was a Thatcher bust. Sherlock takes hold of the bottom of the bag and looks at it closely. I step next to Sherlock and shake my head.

"That's the bust, isn't it? The one that was broken."

Greg shakes his head.

"No, it isn't. It's another one; different owner, a different part of town. Sherlock was right! This is a ... this is a thing. Something's going on."

Sherlock looks at the bag his gaze becomes intense.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd be pleased."

"I am pleased."

"You don't look pleased."

I shake my head.

"That's his game face."

Sherlock raises his eyes, a slight smile forming.

"And the game is on."

He turns away. Shortly afterward he is sitting at the kitchen table examining pieces of the broken plaster under his microscope. John and Greg stand nearby.

"Another two have been smashed since the Westborough one: one belonging to Mr. Mohandes Hassan …"

"Identical busts?"

"Yeah and this one to a Doctor Barnicot in Holborn. Three in total. God knows who'd wanna do something like this."

"Yeah, well some people have that complex, don't they – an idée fixe. They obsess over one thing and they can't let it go."

Sherlock doesn't look up from his microscope.

"No, no good. There were other images of Margaret… Margaret?"

I sigh softly.

"You know who she is."

"Thatcher present at the first break-in. Why would a monomaniac fixate on just one?"

He picks up another piece of plaster with tweezers and finds it instantly interesting.

"Oohh"

"What?"

I step next to Sherlock and look over the piece he had picked up.

"Blood."

Sherlock nods and puts the plaster under the 'scope and looks at it through the lenses.

"And quite a bit of it, too."

He looks up to Lestrade.

"Was there any injury at the crime scene?"

"Nah."

Greg glances down at his watch.

"Then our suspect must have cut themselves breaking the bust."

He uses the tweezers to put the blood-stained piece of plaster into a small plastic bag.

"Come on."

"What?"

"Lambeth."

I shake my head.

"Why?"

"To see Toby."

I nod and as John steps forward.

"Who?"

"You'll see."

John turns to Greg.

"You coming?"

I turn to the two of them.

"No. He's got a lunch date with a brunette forensic officer that he doesn't want to be late for."

"Who told you."

"The right sleeve of your jacket, plus the formaldehyde mixed with your cologne, and your complete inability to stop looking at your watch. Have a good time."

"I will."

"Trust me, though, she's not right for you."

"What?"

Sherlock and I answer, simultaneously.

"She's not the one."

"Well, thank you."

He leaves and John steps closer to me.

"Who'd you work all that out."

Before I can answer, Sherlock does.

"She's got three children in Rio that he doesn't know about."

"Are you just making this up?"

I chuckle softly.

"Possible."

Sherlock turns and goes out of the kitchen door, John following.

"Who's Toby?"

Sherlock and I grab the few things we need before leaving the flat. Sherlock explains who Toby is to John as we make our way to his nearby flat.

"There's a kid I know, hacker, a brilliant hacker, one of the world's best. He got himself into serious trouble with the Americans a couple of years ago. He hacked into the Pentagon's security system, and I managed to get him off the charge. Therefore he owes me a favor."

Sherlock's gloved hand reaches for the knocker on a black-painted door and he knocks twice and then steps back onto the pavement.

"So, how does that help us?"

"What?"

"Toby the hacker."

I shake my head.

"Toby's not the hacker."

"What?"

The young man opens the door and Sherlock smiles at him.

"All right, Craig?"

Craig nods.

"All right, Sherlock?"

Sherlock smiles, moving his gaze down near Craig's feet.

"Craig's got a dog!"

A large bloodhound, with a lead attached to his collar, wanders out onto the pavement.

"So, I see."

Sherlock laughs with delight as the dog comes to him and I. When the dog is at our feet I squat down, petting the dog.

"Good boy!"

As Craig grins at them, Mary comes to his side from inside the house, carrying Rosie in her arms.

"Hiya!"

John stares at her in surprise.

"Mary, what are you ...?"

He holds up his hands as she comes out of the house

"No, we-we agreed we would never bring Rosie out on a case."

"No, exactly, so… Don't wait up. Hey, Sherlock, Madison."

She hands the baby to John. She looks across to Sherlock and me.

"Hey."

"But… Mary, what are you doing here?"

Sherlock shrugs.

"She's better at this than you."

"Better?"

"So I texted her." 

"Hand on, Mary's better than me?"

"Well, she is a retired super-agent with a terrifying skill set. Of course, she's better."

"Yeah, okay."

"Nothing personal."

"What, so I'm supposed to just go home now, am I?"

I stand up again.

"Oh, what do you two think? Shall we take him with us?"

Sherlock chuckles.

"John or the dog?"

John scoffs.

"Ha-ha, that's funny."

"Thank you."

Mary smiles, stepping off the porch.

"John, He's handy and loyal."

"Is it too early for a divorce?"

"Aww..."

"Barnicot's house, then. Anyone up for a trudge? Keep up. He's fast."

Sherlock turns and walks away with Toby, who barks enthusiastically.

It doesn't take long before Toby stops moving and has sat himself down on the pavement near a phone box. Mary stands behind him holding his lead and with her feet either side of his backside. John now has Rosie strapped in front of him in a baby carrier and Sherlock stands next to him with his hands stuffed into the top pockets of his coat. From Mary's pursed lips, John's frown as he looks down at the dog and Sherlock's distant gaze. John finally looks up at Sherlock.

"He's not moving."

"He's thinking."

Mary and I idly stroke the top of Toby's head with her fingers, and Toby whines. John looks down at him again for a moment before lifting his head.

"He's really not moving."

"Slow but sure, John; not dissimilar to yourself."

John frowns and looks down at Toby again.

"You just like this dog, don't you?"

"Well, I like you."

Mary looks up to the boys.

"He's still not moving."

Sherlock looks down at the dog for a few seconds.

"Fascinating."

Mary and I let out exasperated sighs and I clear my throat.

"Sherlock, if you just wanted a dog, we got have gotten a little one."

Finally, Toby starts moving. Reaching the Southwark area of London, we head into Borough Market and walk past the stalls until Toby finally slows down and stops. There's a large pool of blood on the ground and someone has thrown sawdust over it to soak up some of it. Nearby a door opens and a butcher walks out with a pig's carcass over his shoulder. Toby looks around as another butcher carries another carcass into the area the other man just left. As the third butcher with yet another carcass walks across the pool of blood, a street sweeper begins to brush the soaked sawdust into a heap ready to clean it up. Toby whines mournfully. Sherlock looks at the bloody sawdust.

"Clever."

Mary takes a deep breath.

"Well, if you were wounded and you knew you were leaving a trail, where would you go?"

John looks over at her.

"Like hiding a tree in a forest."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Or blood in a butchers'."

He goes round to the front of the dog and bends down to stroke his head

"Never mind, Toby. Better luck next time, hm? This is it, though. This is the one. I can feel it."

"Not Moriarty."

"It has to be him. It's too bizarre; it's too baroque. It's designed to beguile me, tease me, lure me in. At last – a noose for me to put my neck into."

Sherlock walks away, John, Mary, and I exchange a concerned look, before we head back to Craig's place to return Toby. A few days later Sherlock gets back from Craig's again, after getting some information for the case. John has back at his flat to watch over Rosie and let Mary get some sleep.

"So you think it's the Black Pearl of the Borgias?"

Sherlock nods.

"Yes, I don't know what else it could be."

"Why would someone hide the Black Pearl in a Thatcher bust?"

"I'm not sure, does seem rather odd doesn't it."


	33. What More is She Hiding?

Chapter Thirty-Three

What More is She Hiding.

Sherlock had found a way to figure out the location of the last Thatcher bust and decided to go after it. Of course, he leaves me at the flat, while Sherlock went off to get the final Thatcher bust and I spend the whole night waiting up for him. When Sherlock gets back he is soaked, I jump up.

"Sherlock, what happened?"

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he just hands me a thumb drive that reads A.G.R.A.

"What is this? John burnt this didn't he?"

I look over to Sherlock.

"Apparently, there was more than just the one."

I shake my head and place the drive on the table, hanging my head between my arms. I hear Sherlock walk back into the bedroom and a few minutes later, I do as well. When I get to the room, he is changing and I sit on the bed, zoning out on the periodic table Sherlock's had on his wall ever since I met him.  
"What? I thought you hated that."

I shrug my shoulders.

"Right now it's the only thing that makes sense."

I can feel Sherlock sit on the bed behind me before placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Do we not make sense?"

"Sometimes we do, sometimes we don't."

I take a deep breath and look over my shoulder.

"You keep going back to drugs and…" 

Sherlock removes his hand and looks down, after a few moments he glances around the room before looking back at me.

"Madison, I promise you, while you are here, I will never bring drugs into this flat."

He takes my hands in his.

"I promise. I made a vow to keep you safe and I am going to keep it."

I nod and turn the rest of the way towards him when I turn all the way around Sherlock places a hand on the side of my neck, kissing me softly. Sherlock heads back out of the sitting room and I wait for a little while before I follow him. When I get into the sitting room I see Sherlock is standing in front of his chair holding the memory stick by one end and repeatedly tapping it against the fingers of his other hand while he frowns in concentration. He has a dark bruise under his left eye. The door opens and Greg comes in. Sherlock turns to look at him.

"Well?"

Greg shakes his head.

"He can't have got far. We'll have him in a bit."

"I very much doubt it."

He takes out his phone and starts to type on it.

"Why?"

"Because I think he used to work with Mary. "

I shake my head.

"He what?"

Sherlock turns to me.

"Oh, Good morning, Madison. The man I got into a brawl with last night used to work with Mary."

I shake my head as Greg leaves.

"We have to figure out what's going on with this once and for all and there is only one person who is going to tell us."

Sherlock nods.

"I agree."

"And you are not leaving me here, last time you did you got your arse kicked."

Sherlock grins slightly.

"Fine. Why did I make the mistake for falling for a woman as pig-headed as I am."

I walk up to Sherlock, looking up at him.

"You have the same condition as John, it's what you like."

After we leave the flat, Sherlock and I make our way to a small vault, as we walk along a path towards a church, we see a small wooden door with NO ENTRY stenciled on it in red. Graffiti just under the message reads GwJ. Near the bottom of the door, someone has spray-painted a white circle with an "i" inside it. When we get inside I look around and see that t has been set up as a home-from-home: there is a tatty sofa and a couple of hard plastic chairs, and a couple of desks, one of which has an open laptop and anglepoise lamp on it. A few other lights are dotted around the room but it's still quite dark in there.

"What is this where you take the many women you cheat on me with?"

Sherlock looks at me a little confused.

"No, it's Bill's old place before he moved into his new flat."

I chuckle softly.

"It was a joke, honey."

"Oh… I don't get it."

"If you managed to balance two women at one time I think your head would explode."

"Mm… Still don't get it."

I shake my head and sit on the sofa as Sherlock and I begin to wait for Mary. Soon after we arrive at the vault is begins to storm, rain pouring down and thunder ringing out. We sit and listen to the rain for about a twenty minutes before someone in a raincoat pushes open the door and goes inside, closing the door again, before pushing back the hood of their coat and to reveal that it's Mary. As she walks into the Vault Sherlock stands.

"I am an idiot. I know nothing."

Mary answers in her normal cheerily, putting out the torch she had been carrying into her coat pocket.

"Well, I've been telling you that for ages! That was quite a text you sent me. What's going on, Sherlock?"

"We were so convinced it was Moriarty, we couldn't see what was right under our noses."

As I stand and make eye contact with Mary, her smile fades, the look on her face now one of worry.

"I expected a pearl."

Sherlock looks down to the memory stick he's holding. Mary stares in shock and then walks quickly towards him.

"Oh my God. That's a …"

"Yes, it's an AGRA memory stick like you gave John, except this one belongs to someone else. Who?"

Mary's eyes are locked on the stick.

"I don't know. We-we all had one, but the others w… Well, haven't you two even looked at it yet?"

I shake my head.

"We glanced at it, but we'd prefer to hear it from you."

"Why?"

"Because we'll know the truth when we hear it."

Mary walks a few paces away from us and then turns back to face us.  
"There were four of us. Agents."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Not just agents." 

"Polite term. Alex; Gabriel; me; and Ajay. There was absolute trust between us. The memory sticks guaranteed it. We all had one, each containing aliases, our background, everything. We could never be betrayed because we had everything we needed to destroy the other."

"Who employed you?"

" Anyone who paid well. I mean, we were at the top of our game for years, and then it all ended. There was a coup in Georgia. The British embassy in Tbilisi was taken over; lots of hostages. We got the call to go in, get them out. There was a change of plan, a last-minute adjustment."

I lean against the desk.

"Who from?"

"I don't know. Just another voice on the phone, and a code word, 'Ammo.'"

"Ammo?"

"Like 'ammunition.' We went in, but then something went wrong. Something went really wrong. That was six years ago. Feels like forever. I was the only one that made it out."

Sherlock steps up next to me.

"No."

"What?"

"I met someone last night: the same someone who's looking for the sixth Thatcher."

Sherlock puts the laptop down on the other table, types on it and steps away as various photographs come up on the screen. Two of them seem to be surveillance photos, while the third is a photo ID badge of a journalist called Eshan Mohindra. All three pictures are of the man with whom Sherlock fought earlier. As Mary walks towards the laptop, a new photo comes up of the man. It and the previous two surveillance photos are marked "AGRA - 3203 - 42673."

"Oh my God. That's Ajay. That's him. What, he's alive?"

"Yeah, very much so."

"I don't believe it! This is amazing! I thought I was the only one. I thought I was the only one who got out. Where is he? I need to see him now!"

Sherlock holds out a hand to slow her down.

"Before you gave it to John, did you keep your memory stick safe?"

"Yeah, of course. It was our insurance. Above all, they mustn't fall into enemy hands."

"So Ajay survived as well, and now he's looking for the memory stick he managed to hide with all of AGRA's old aliases on it. But why?"

"I don't know." 

I look up to Sherlock, then back to Mary.

"Tbilisi was six years ago. Where's he been?"

Mary looks down, thinking, then shakes her head, making a helpless sound. Sherlock pauses for a moment, then pulls in a breath.

"Mary, I'm sorry to tell you this, but he wants you dead."

Mary laughs in disbelief.

"Sorry, no, no, 'cause we-we were family."

"Families fall out. The memory stick is the easiest way to track you down. You're the only other survivor. It must be you that he wants, and he's already killed looking for the Thatcher bust."

"Well, he's just trying to find me. He survived. That's all that matters!"

"I heard it from his own mouth. "Tell her she's a dead woman walking."

"Why would he want to kill me?"

"He said you betrayed him."

"Oh, no, no, that's insane."

Mary looks at the computer again, bewildered.

"Well, it's what he believes."

Mary lets out a long breath and sinks onto a chair next to me.

"I suppose I was always afraid this might happen; that something in my past would come back to haunt me one day."

Sherlock puts his hand to his bruised ribs and turns away from her.

"Yes, well he's a very tangible ghost."

"God, I just wanted a bit of peace, and I really thought I had it."

Sherlock turns back and leans down to her.

"No. Mary, you do. I make a vow, remember? To look after the four of you."

Mary smiles slightly.

"Sherlock the dragon slayer."

"Stay close to me and I will keep you safe from him. I promise you."

Mary looks thoughtful for a moment, then stands up.

"There's something I think you two should read."

Sherlock and I look at the piece of paper she's holding out with her gloved hand.

"What is it?"

"I hoped I wouldn't have to do this."

Mary puts the paper into Sherlock's bare hand and watches the two of us as Sherlock unfolds it, holding it in both hands. Immediately my vision starts to go fuzzy. The last thing I remember is Sherlock lowering me onto the floor while going down himself.


	34. Hotel Cecil

Chapter Thirty-Four

Hotel Cecil

It had been about a few months since Mary had drugged Sherlock and me, and had gone on the run from Ajay. She had written a letter to John explaining to him why she had to leave him and Rosie, but that she would be back as soon as she could. Sherlock and I had to keep reminding John that he know something like this could happen with Mary's past and we were all to blame for not asking to hear the whole truth when we had first found out she was an ex-agent. I had just gotten back from dropping Rosie off at Molly's after being told that she would be watching her for a few days when I get back to the flat John tells me that he had tagged the memory stick before Mary took it.

"What do you mean you put a tracker in the thumb drive?"

"Exactly what I said, I put a tracker in the drive."

"Okay, so we know where Mary is, when do we leave?"

I look over to Sherlock.

"In a few hours. So we need to get moving. Madison, did you pack a suitcase for John like I asked you when you met Molly at the flat?"

"Yeah, of course."

I hold up the small suitcase Sherlock had texted me to pack when I was on my way to John's flat.

"Perfect, I've packed ours, let's go."

Sherlock rushes to the door and grabs the two suitcases by the door. John and I look at each other a little confused before following him. John takes his suitcase from me as we head out the door and make our way to the airport. We end up in Morocco and make our way through a marketplace into the Hotel Cecil and check-in.

"Madison, you and John go upstairs and get things put in the room and then come back downstairs. Mary will be here shortly."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, now please, go."

John and I sigh before going upstairs and quickly heading back down, however, when we get back we can hear Mary's voice from the first room.

"No, I mean how did you find me?"

"I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"No, really though, how? Every movement I made was entirely random; every new personality just on the roll of a dice!"

"Mary, no human action is ever truly random. An advanced grasp of the mathematics of probability mapped onto a thorough apprehension of human psychology and the known dispositions of any given individual can reduce the number of variables considered. I myself know of at least fifty-eight techniques to refine this seemingly infinite array of randomly generated possibilities down to the smallest number of feasible variables. But they're really difficult, so instead I just ... stuck a tracer on the inside of the memory stick."

"Oh, you bastard!"

"I know, but your face." 

"The mathematics of probability?!"

"You believed that."

"Feasible variables!" 

"Yes. I started to run out about then."

"In the memory stick!"

At this point, John walks out of the doorway to the stairs.

"Yeah, that was my idea."

Mary turns to look at him. He looks back at her straight-faced and her smile slowly drops.

"What did you two leave Maddie back in London?" 

I step forward.

"Please, like I'd let them do that when they're coming after my best friend."

She smiles at me before taking off her dark wig and scarf she had been wearing to hide her blonde hair. It doesn't take long for night falls outside, and the call to prayer can be heard. John is sitting on the corner of the low table while Mary stands in front of him, and I am sitting next to Sherlock at the small table in the room.

"AGRA?"

"Yes."

"Mm-hm, You said it was your initials."

"In a way, that was true."

"In a way?"

John shakes his head and looks away.

"So many lies."

"I'm so sorry."

"I don't just mean you."

"What?"

"Alex, Gabriel, Ajay ... You're 'R.'"

Mary nods. John looks up at her, a small tight smile on his face.

"Rosamund. Rosamund Mary. I always liked 'Mary.'"

"Yeah, me too. I used to."

John stands up and takes a few paces.

"I just... I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have stayed. You could have talked to me. That's what couples are supposed to do: work things through."

"Yes, of course."

"Mary, I may not be a very good man, but I think I'm a bit better than you give me credit for, most of the time."

"All the time. You're always a good man, John. I've never doubted that. You never judge; you never complain. I don't deserve you. I... All I ever wanted to do was keep you and Rosie safe, that's all."

John reaches out and puts his hand on top of her clasped hands. Sherlock has his hands clasped in his lap and his head lowered. He has his jacket on over his shirt. Now he looks up briefly towards the couple before lowering his head again.

"I will keep you safe. But it has to be in London. It's my city; I know the turf. Come home and everything will be alright, I promise you."

A red dot of a laser appears on the wall behind the Watsons and then shifts onto the side of John's head. Mary is unsighted and can't see it but Sherlock yells out urgently.

"Get down!"

Instantly Mary grabs John and pulls him downwards. Sherlock leans down, grabs the low table and flips it up onto one side to provide a barrier against the shooter, and moving in front of me. John goes to his hands and knees while Mary runs for the far side of the room, rummaging in her shoulder bag as she goes. Several shots are fired through the closed latticed door and then the man we now know as Ajay kicks the door open and marches in, his rifle raised in front of him. Mary fires three shots from her pistol and Ajay takes cover around the corner of the doorway to the room. Mary drops to a crouch beside a bureau at the end of the room, Sherlock half kneels between the other side of the bureau and another taller cabinet near the entrance, and John half sits up behind the upturned table.

"Hello again."

"Ajay?"

"Oh, you remember me. I'm touched."

"Look, I thought you were dead, believe me, I did."

"I've been looking forward to this for longer than you can imagine."

"I swear to you, I thought you were dead. I thought I was the only one who got out."

Ajay moves out of the corner, still obscured from Mary's, Sherlock's, and my view, and fires a single shot into the upturned table behind which John is crouching with his arms against it to keep it upright. Not looking around, Sherlock stretches out a hand towards Mary and without hesitation, she gives him her pistol.

"How did you find us?"

"By following you, Sherlock Holmes. I mean, you're clever – you found her – but I found you, so perhaps not so clever. And now here we are, at last."

Sherlock looks around and raises his eyes to the light hanging from the ceiling. He stands up, fires at the light and shatters it, then swings the pistol round to aim at Ajay's position. Ajay drops down to a crouch. He chuckles.

"Touché."

John draws in a deep breath.

"Listen: whatever you think you know, we can talk about this. We can work it out."

"She thought I was dead. I might as well have been."

"It was always just the four of us, always, remember?"

"Oh yeah."

"So why d'you want to kill me?"

"D'you know how long they kept me prisoner; what they did to me? They tortured Alex to death. I can still hear the sound of his back breaking. But you, you – where were you?"

"That day at the embassy, I escaped. But I lost sight of you too, so you explain: where were you?"

"Oh, I got out ... for a while. Long enough to hide my memory stick. I didn't want that to fall into their hands. I was loyal, you see; loyal to my friends. But they took me, tortured me. Not for information. Not for anything except fun. Oh, they thought I'd give in, die, but I didn't. I lived, and eventually, they forgot about me just rotting in a cell somewhere. Six years they kept me there, until one day I saw my chance. Oh, and I-I made them pay. You know, all the time I was there, I just kept picking up things – little whispers, laughter, gossip: how the clever agents had been betrayed. Brought down by you."

"Me?"

A train whistles as it goes past the window, its light briefly illuminating the room. Ajay rises from his hiding place and at the same moment, Mary breaks from cover and heads across the room, grabbing the pistol which Sherlock is already holding out to her. Simultaneously John rises to a low crouch and scrambles across to the bag to grab the other gun. As Ajay comes around the corner Mary is already there to meet him and they stop inches away from each other aiming their guns at the other's head. John drops to his knees behind a stool and braces his arms on top of it, aiming his pistol at Ajay with both hands. I pull the gun I had in my waistband out and step over beside Sherlock, pointing a gun at Ajay as well. Everyone stops moving and Ajay lets out a voiceless gasp at the sight of the woman he despises.

"You know I'll kill you too. You know I will, Ajay."

"What, you think I care if I die?"

He lowers one hand from his gun and takes half a step forward. Sherlock shifts position slightly, his eyes locked on him.

"I've dreamed of killing you every night for six years…"

He leans slightly forward so that the end of Mary's gun is touching his forehead.

"of squeezing the life out of your treacherous, lying throat."

"I swear to you, Ajay."

John briefly rises up a little on his knees, his gun still aimed up at Ajay, then drops back down again, his teeth bared. Sherlock takes a deep calm breath.

"What did you hear, Ajay? When you were a prisoner, what exactly did you hear?"

John glances across to him as he speaks then looks back towards Ajay and blows out a quiet breath.

"What did I hear? Ammo. Every day as they tore into me. Ammo. Ammo. Ammo. Ammo."

His gun hand begins to tremble. Mary grimaces slightly, perhaps realizing that he is in danger of losing control.

"We were betrayed!"

I take a deep breath.

"And they said it was her?"

"You betrayed us!"

"They said her name?"

"Yeah, they said it was the English woman."

At this moment a Moroccan policeman comes into the room and fires two shots into Ajay's back. Mary screams as he drops.

"No! No!"

Dropping her gun, she bends down to him and John hurries to join her. As the policeman stands in the doorway with his gun still raised, Karim, the young boy who works at the hotel walks in carrying a tray containing four silver cups with mint leaves sticking out of them. He stops as John bends down and puts his fingers to Ajay's neck, and Karim drops the tray which crashes to the floor.


	35. The Flight Home

Chapter Thirty-Five

The Flight Home

On the plane flight home, we are all exhausted. John and Mary are in the row in front of Sherlock and I and trying to sleep. Sherlock has his head against his seat and I have my head on his shoulder.

"That can't be very comfortable."

"What?"

"My shoulder. I can't imagine it is very comfortable."

"It's not, they're boney. But it's better than nothing, plus this is somewhat relaxing."

"How so?"

I chuckle softly as I lace my fingers through his.

"I don't know, being close to you is comforting. Being able to smell your cologne just makes me feel safe."

"Oh, okay. How exactly?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You always snuggle with me when you sleep, if you sleep, when you're on a difficult case."

"That's not about comfort."

I sit up and look over to him.

"Oh, then what is it about?"

He takes a deep breath, before taking a long pause.

"Okay, it is a comfort thing."

I laugh and lay my head back on his shoulder. As he leans over, laying his head against mine.

"I don't understand a lot of the things I do around you."

"Like what?"

"The snuggling you, if I have a difficult case I want to have you close to me and I want to hear your theories and opinion on it. I never thought I'd want to have children until I met you. Now, if I don't have a case, all I can think about is my future with you. I couldn't even begin to imagine it without you."

"With any luck, you won't have to."

"I love you, Janessa."

"I love you, William."

"You know I hate that name."

"Then don't call me Janessa."

I shake my head and look over to the window as the lights in the cabin go out and see the stairs in the sky. I take a deep breath and go to sleep for the short while I can before the flight lands.


	36. London Aquarium

Chapter Thirty-Six

London Aquarium

It hadn't been long since we got back from Morocco and Sherlock had come jumping out of the back room.

"I know who did it!"

"What? Who?"

"No time to explain! Come on!"

Sherlock runs out of the flat, texting as he does. Sherlock doesn't even try to explain anything to me until we are in the cab and on the way to the Sea Life London Aquarium housed inside County Hall.

"It was Vivian!" 

"Who?"

"The English woman who betrayed Mary and her team and the record keeper for my 'hearing' when I came back."

I shake my head still confused.

"What?"

"Just trust me alright, she's the one who did it."

It doesn't take long for us to get to the aquarium, once we are there we make our way along the blue-lit corridors and through the glass tunnels under the water, and there is an announcement over the speaker system.

" Ladies and gentlemen, the Aquarium will be closing in five minutes. Please make your way to the exit. Thank you."

But we continue onwards until we reach an enclosed area with benches where people can sit and look at the various tanks all around. A woman is sitting on one of the benches with her back to us.

"Your office said I'd find you here."

The woman doesn't turn as she answers Sherlock.

"This was always my favorite spot for agents to meet. We're like them: ghostly, living in the shadows."

She turns to us and looks to Sherlock, I can finally see the face of the elderly woman Sherlock had tracked here. I suppose this is Vivian.

"Predatory."

"Well, it depends which side you're on. Also, we have to keep moving or we die."

"Nice location for the final act. Couldn't have chosen it better myself. But then I never could resist a touch of the dramatic."

"I just come here to look at the fish. I knew this would happen one day. It's like that old story."

Vivian stands up and takes a few steps closer to the tank, before turning to face us again, her handbag hanging from her elbow.

"I really am a very busy man. Would you mind cutting to the chase?"

"You're very sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"With good reason."

"There was once a merchant in a famous market in Baghdad."

Sherlock closes his eyes and lowers his head a little.

"I really have never liked this story."

" I'm just like the merchant in the story. I thought I could outrun the inevitable. I've always been looking over my shoulder; always expecting to see the grim figure of… death "

Mary comes into the room and stops at Sherlock's side a couple of feet away from him and I. I don't take my gaze away from Vivian as I greet Mary.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"John?"

"On this way."

Sherlock clears his throat.

"Let me introduce Amo."

"You were Amo? You were the person on the phone that time?"

Sherlock nods.

"Using AGRA as her private assassination unit."

Mary scoffs.

"Why did you betray us?"

"Why does anyone do anything?"

Sherlock gives Vivian a rather odd look.

"Oh, let me guess. Selling secrets?"

"Well, it would be churlish to refuse. Worked very well for a few years. I bought a nice cottage in Cornwall on the back of it. But the ambassador in Tbilisi found out. I thought I'd had it. Then she was taken hostage in that coup. I couldn't believe my luck! That bought me a little time."

"But then you found out your boss had sent AGRA in."

"Very handy. They were always such reliable killers."

"What you didn't know, Mary was that this one also tipped off the hostage-takers."

"Lady Smallwood gave the order, but I sent another one to the terrorists with a nice little clue about her code name should anyone have an enquiring mind. Seemed to do the trick."

I sigh softly.

"And you thought your troubles were over."

"I was tired; tired of the mess of it all. I just wanted some peace, some clarity. The hostages were killed, AGRA too... or so I thought. My secret was safe. But apparently not. Just a little peace. That's all you wanted too, wasn't it? A family, home. Really, I understand. So just let me get out of here, right? Let me just walk away. I'll vanish. I'll go forever. What d'you say?"

Mary becomes furious.

"After what you did?!"

She steps toward Vivian, as she does Sherlock and I begin to follow her, speaking simultaneously.

"Mary, no!"

In a fluid movement, Vivian stands, pulling a pistol from her handbag and aiming it at Mary, who stops and backs away.

"Okay."

Mary moves back to stand on the other side of Sherlock, as she and I switch sides as the three of us move away.

"I was never a field agent. I always thought I'd be rather good."

I scoff.

"Well, you handled the operation in Tbilisi very well."

"Thanks."

Sherlock snirs.

"for a secretary."

"What?"

"Can't have been easy all those years, sitting in the back keeping your mouth shut when you knew you were cleverer than most of the people in the room."

"I didn't do this out of jealousy!"

"No? Same old drudge, day in, day out, never getting out there where all the excitement was. Just back to your little flat on Wigmore Street. They've taken up the pavement outside the Post Office there. The local clay on your shoes is very distinctive. Yes, your little flat."

"How do you know?"

"Well, on your salary it would have to be modest and you spent all the money on that cottage, didn't you, and what are you, widowed or divorced? (He focuses in on a plain gold band on the index finger of her left hand.)Wedding ring's at least thirty years old and you've moved it to another finger. That means you're sentimentally attached to it but you're not still married. I favor widowed, given the number of cats you share your life with."

Mary and I both feel the mood in the room shift. Not taking our eyes from Vivian but speaking to Sherlock.

"Sherlock…"

"Darling, stop."

But he doesn't, he keeps pointing the woman with the gun.

"Two Burmese and a tortoiseshell, judging by the cat hairs on your cardigan. A divorcee's more likely to look for a new partner; a widow to fill the void left by her dead husband. Pets do that, or so I'm told, and there's clearly no-one new in your life, otherwise, you wouldn't be spending your Friday nights in an aquarium. That probably accounts for the drink problem, too: the slight tremor in your hand ... the red wine stain ghosting your top lip. So yes. I say jealousy was your motive after all – to prove how good you are …"

Vivian's gaze turns to look towards the entrance, as I glance over my shoulder I see Mycroft walk in, followed by Greg and three uniformed police officers, as Sherlock continues.

"to make up for the inadequacies of your little life."

Mycroft clears his throat.

"Well, Mrs. Norbury. I must admit this is unexpected."

Sherlock changes his tone to one of sarcasm.

"Vivian Norbury, who outsmarted them all. All except Sherlock Holmes."

He takes a step forward, holding out his left hand. Mary and the police officers behind her also step forward.

"There's no way out."

"So it would seem. You've seen right through me, Mr. Holmes."

"It's what I do."

"Maybe I can still surprise you."

Swiftly she brings up the gun and aims it at Sherlock. I hear Greg try to talk her down behind us.

"Come on. Be sensible."

Sherlock holds his hands out to the side. Vivian shakes her head.

"No, I don't think so."

She fires, the bullet heads towards Sherlock who stands there unmoving. I take a step forward to step in front of Sherlock, but Mary, who had no doubt anticipated that this was going to happen, hurls herself sideways in front of him, pushing me out of the way, but not before the bullet graces my forearm and impacts her lower chest. Blood sprays outward and immediately there is a large bloodstain on her shirt. Mary and I cry out, she falls to the floor against a nearby bench and I fall back onto my back.

Vivian speaks out in a spiteful voice.

"Surprise."

Mary rolls over to slump against the back of the bench, gasping in pain. As two of the police officers hurry over to Vivian to disarm her, Sherlock steps toward me, but I wave an arm toward Mary.

"Help Mary."

Sherlock nods and steps up to Mary staring at her in shock, dropping to his knees to press his gloved hand against the wound. She looks up at him, her eyes wide, and whimpers.

"Everything's fine. It's gonna be okay."

Sherlock shouts.

"Get an ambulance."

Mycroft hurries away just as John runs in and Greg to me, Greg tries to stop my arm from bleeding. Sherlock keeps talking to Mary in a calm voice.

"it's alright, it's alright."

John runs to Mary's side.

"Mary!"

He drops down by her side.

"John!"

She breathes heavily. Sherlock stands up and steps back toward me and John jams his right hand against the wound, applying pressure to it, and holds the back of her head with his other hand.

"Mary? Mary? Stay with me."

"Oh, come on."

"No, don't worry. Don't worry."

"Oh, come on, Doctor, you can do better than that."

Her voice break on the last word.

"Come on, Mary."

"God, John, I think this is it. You made me so happy. You gave me everything I could ever, ever… Want."

"Mary, Mary…."

"Look after Rosie. Promise me."

"I promise."

"No."

John speaks up.

"I promise."

"Hey, Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"I… so like you. Did I ever say?"

"Yes, yes you did."

"I'm sorry… for shooting you that time. I'm really sorry."

"It's-it's all right."

"I think we're even now, okay?"

"Okay. Maddie?"

I sit up and take a deep breath.

"Yeah?"

"You were… the sister I never had. You were my best friend and I love you."

"I love you too, Mary."

"Make sure you keep the boys in trouble."

"What else am I gonna do?"

Mary and I share a laugh before she yelps with pain. When she speaks again she addresses John.

"You were my whole world."

Grimacing with his teeth bared, John rears his head back, his eyes screwed shut in anguish, before lowering it down, his breath shuddering against his tears before raises his head to meet her gaze.

"Being Mary Watson… was the only life worth living. Thank you."

Her head drops and the life leaves her body. John reaches to touch her chin with his bloodstained fingers, then drops his hand. Sherlock, Greg, Mycroft, and I watch silently. For a long several seconds nobody moves, then John lifts his hand again to put his fingers against the pulse point on Mary's neck. With his other hand he cradles her head and rests his chin on top of it, staring vacantly into the distance, then he moves his head to the side of her head. Lifting up again, he looks at her open blank eyes and his bloody fingerprints against the side of her neck. Sherlock stares down at them as if he cannot believe what has happened. John's head drops, and an animalistic howl comes from his clenched teeth. He draws in a breath and howls again, and then again. Sherlock reaches out a hand to touch him but before he can make contact John's head comes up, his teeth clenched and his face full of murderous rage. He glares up at Sherlock, breathing heavily.

"Don't you dare! You made a vow! You swore it!"

His eyes wide with shock, Sherlock starts to step back. Nearby, Greg raises his head from the appalling scene and looks across to Mycroft, who returns his gaze. With tears pouring down his face, John turns back to Mary, strokes her hair back and puts his mouth close to her ear. He sits cradling his dead wife. As Greg passes his hand over his face and Mycroft watches his brother, Sherlock slowly begins to back away. As Sherlock steps away from John and Mary, the ambulance finally run in. Dropping their shoulders once they see Mary, but Greg stands.

"This woman needs help too."

The two men rush to my side and look over my arm, wrapping my wound. John glances back over his shoulder and scoffs shaking his head.


	37. Anyone

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Anyone

It had been a week since Mary's funeral and John refused to speak to Sherlock, and I hadn't seen much of him either. I had spent most of my time watching John and Rosie when Molly wasn't available. But to be honest I enjoy looking after Rosie, she makes me feel closer to Mary, and it's the least I can do to help John move through this difficult time. I can't even begin to imagine what he's going through right now, losing the love of his life and pushing away his best friend as time goes on. I don't blame him for being mad at Sherlock. Hell, I'm mad at him too, if he had stopped when Mary and I had warned him too or if the two of us had waited until Mycroft and Greg got there, things could have turned out of differently.

I had gotten home from watching Rosie and I needed to be back there in a few hours after to take over for Molly so she can go to work. I had showered and changed my changes. Since I am watching Rosie, I had changed my style close to what it was when I had met Sherlock, jeans and a tee shirt, with tennis shoes. But it's not like I'm going to be out of John's flat so what's the worry, right? When I head out of the bedroom I can hear Mrs. Hudson talking to Sherlock.

"Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?"

I sigh as I walk into the room.

"No, it won't."

Mrs. Hudson gives me a weak smile, shaking her head, before giving me a hug.

"We'll have to rally around, I except. Do our bit. Look after little Rosie."

Sherlock stands from his armchair, looking around as if he is uncertain what to do, then points to a small pile of letters next to his laptop on the table.

"Just going to, um… go through these things. There might be a case."

"A Case?"

I sigh softly, taking a deep breath.

"Mrs. H, it's his process."

She nods and leaves the flat, as Sherlock sits at the table in front of his laptop, just staring at it. I walk up to him and place my hands on his shoulders.

"Not up to it?"

Sherlock drops his head a little.

"Work is the best antidote to sorrow."

I begin to step away from him, but he places his hand on mine, stopping me.

"Maddison?"

"Yes?"

"If you ever think I'm becoming a bit… full of myself, cocky or... over-confident, again, would you just say the word 'Norbury' to me, would you?"

I take a deep breath.

"How about I just punch you instead?"

Sherlock lets out a quick chuckle, before shaking his head.

"I'm serious."

"Yes, I will tell you 'Norbury.'"

"Thank you."

Turning back towards where his hand is resting on the correspondence on the dining table, he lifts the top item and pulls out a padded envelope from underneath it.

"What is that?"

"I don't know."

Sherlock opens the envelope and pulls out a DVD. It is a plain white disc but written on it are the words, 'MISS ME?' Sherlock and I stare down at the disc.

"Oh… My… God…"

"Must be."

"It can't be."

Sherlock puts the disc into his computer and I pull up one of the other chairs and sit next to him as the disc loads.

"I knew it wouldn't end like this. I knew Moriarty made plans."

For a moment the 'loading' circle spins and then the disc begins to play. But it's not James who appears on the screen. It's Mary. She smiles into the camera and rolls her eyes a little as she speaks.

"Thought that would get your attention."

I scoff softly and shake my head as Sherlock takes my hand and the video continues.

"So, this is in case… n case the day comes. If you are watching this, I'm ... probably dead. I hope I can have an ordinary life, but who knows? Nothing Is certain; nothing is written. My old life – it was full of consequences. The danger was the fun part, but you can't outrun that forever. You need to remember that, so ... I'm giving you a case, Maddie, and Sherlock. Might be the hardest case of your career. When I'm ... gone – if I'm gone – I need you to do something for me. Save John Watson, save him, you too. And you know him like I know him, and you two will have to go somewhere dark, you'll have to get involved with some horrible. Because, if one of you two need him, I promise he will be there. Go to hell."

I take a deep breath as the video ends and Sherlock closes the laptop. I look down at my watch and wipe the tears from my face.

"I need to get going or Molly will be late for work."

Sherlock stands taking off his dressing gown, under it, he is dressed in a button up and slacks like normal.

"Let me walk you."

"Sherlock I don't know if that's a good idea…."

"Please, if nothing more then to make sure you get there safe."

I nod and sigh softly.

"Alright."

Once we arrive at John's flat, Molly opens the door and greets me with a smile.

"Hey, Maddie."

"Hello, Molly."

When Molly's gaze moves to Sherlock, her smile disappears.  
"hi. "

Sherlock speaks quietly.

"I just ... wondered how things were going and ... and if there was anything I could do."

Molly hands Rosie to me, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out an envelope, holding it out to Sherlock.

"It's, uh, it's from John. You don't need to read it now. I'm sorry, Sherlock. He says... Jo-John said if you were to come round asking after him, offering to help… He... said he'd r... that he'd rather have anyone but you. Anyone."

Sherlock blinks and presses his lips together. Molly looks over to Rosie and then turns before she takes her back and goes back indoors, closing the door behind her. Sherlock stands there for a few seconds, then turns and walks away, tucking the envelope into his coat pocket. I sigh softly as Sherlock leaves, shaking my head, wishing he had listened to me before we left the flat. I take a deep breath before heading into the flat. Molly had put Rosie back into her playpen and was getting a couple of her things gathered up to leave.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"I honestly don't know. I've never seen the two of them like this. Even after Sherlock faked his death, John was still willing to see him."

Molly nods and takes a deep breath.

"Well, I'd better get going."

"Yeah, have a nice day at work."

"Thanks, her dummy is over there and there are a couple of bottles in the fridge."

I nod and wave to Molly as she leaves the flat.


	38. Smith

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Smith

Molly and I had taken turns watching after Rosie for the past few weeks, honestly, it seems like John is avoiding his own daughter. But Molly liked it joke that it was giving me plenty of practice for when Sherlock and I have kids. I suppose she's right, but I'd rather have Mary here making that joke while Sherlock is there to tell her we haven't even decided if we want kids or not.

John had gone out to a therapy session so I was at the flat alone, with little Rosie. Not that it bothers me, but would like to get out of here at some point. Following Mary's advice, Sherlock had gone to hell. Getting back on drugs and losing his mind. I know he is doing this for our friend, which made it all the harder to act like I hate him right now around the man he is trying to save by risking his own life. But since this is the situation we have to deal with I had asked John if I could stay with him while Sherlock went through whatever it was he was going through and John was happy to oblige, since I was helping to take care of Rosie. As long as Sherlock didn't come around the flat. We had kept in contact with a handful of texts when he was sober, which sadly, wasn't often.

Which brings us to today, Sherlock had sent me a text about a week ago telling me to get a sitter of Rosie and to meet him at John's new therapist's office. When I get to the rather nice flat in an upper-end neighborhood I see a very nice car out front and when I walk inside I hear John and Mrs. Hudson talking.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Oh, Sherlock told me. He's not so difficult when you've got a gun on him."

John turns and sees my walking through the open door.

"Oh, let me guess she told her too."

John takes a deep breath.

"How did you know? How? On Monday I decided to get a new therapist. Tuesday afternoon, I chose her. Wednesday morning I booked today's session. Now, today is Friday. So two weeks ago – two weeks before you were abducted at gunpoint and brought here against your will … over a week before I even thought of coming here, you knew exactly where you'd need to be picked up for lunch?"

As I enter the room the rest of them are in I see Sherlock sitting in one of the chairs, looking up at the ceiling. He looks horrible, he hasn't shaved since I left the flat, his skin looks oil and discolored, and he looks extremely strung out.

"Really? I correctly anticipated the responses of people I know well to scenarios I devised? Can't everyone do that?"

Mrs. Hudson tilts her head.

"How?"

"Except the boot. The boot was mean."

John scoffs.

"Never mind how. He's dying to tell us that. I want to know why."

"Because of Mrs. Hudson's right. I'm burning up. I'm at the bottom of a pit and I'm still falling and I'm never climbing out."

I take a deep breath, placing a hand on John's shoulder.

"He's right, John. He needs you. I mean look at him, he looks horrible and that's coming from the woman who loves him."

Sherlock stands.  
"I need you to know, John – I need you to see that up here… I've still got it, so when I tell you that this… is the most dangerous, the most despicable human being that I have ever encountered; when I tell you that this-this monster must be ended, please remember where you're standing, because ... you're standing exactly where I said you would be two weeks ago. I'm a mess; I'm in hell; but I am not wrong, not about him."

John crosses his arms.

"So what has all this got to do with me?"

"Look at me. Can't do it, not now. Not alone."

He looks away and swallows, his eyes slightly tearful. John sighs slightly, then unfolds his arms and holds out his right hand towards Sherlock, pulling in a sharp breath through his nose.

"You're not alone, you have Madison."

"Madison won't work with me when I'm like this. And I don't blame her. It is too dangerous with her previous condition."

Sherlock stands up, also sighing a little, and takes his hand. Instantly John clasps Sherlock's arm with his other hand and turns it over. Sherlock rolls his eyes as John pushes up the sleeves of his dressing gown and shirt to reveal all the dark marks on the underside of his arm where he's been injecting himself.

"Yeah, well, they're real enough, I suppose."

Sherlock pulls his arm away, turning away.

"Why would I be faking?"

John takes a deep breath, raising his voice.

"Because you're a liar. You lie all the time. It's like your mission."

"I have been many things, John, but when have I ever been a malingerer?"

"You pretended to be dead for two years!"

"... apart from that…"

"Listen, before I do anything, I need to know what state you're in."

"Well, you're a doctor. Examine me."

Sherlock throws himself back into the chair.

"No, I need a second opinion."

"Oh, John, calm down. When have you ever managed two opinions? You'd fall over."

"I need the one person who – unlike me – learned to see through your bullshit long ago."

"Who's that, then? I'm sure I would have noticed someone other than the woman standing next to you."

"The last person you'd think of. I want you to be examined by Molly Hooper. D'you hear me? I said, Molly Hooper."

Sherlock cringes slightly.

"You're really not gonna like this."

"Like what?"

The doorbell rings. John looks towards the sound, then heaves in a frustrated breath and scowls down at Sherlock. John and I walk over to the door, John opens the door to Molly who is standing outside wearing her white lab coat over her clothes. He looks at her in exasperation. An ambulance is parked in the driveway of the house opposite. A paramedic is opening the rear doors.

"Um, he-hello. Is, uh ... I'm sorry, Sh-Sherlock asked me to come."

"What, two weeks ago?"

"Yeah, About two weeks."

"Great, who is watching Rosie?"

I take a deep breath.  
"Don't worry, I got a babysitter and made sure she has one of the best I could find."

John nods in resignation. Sherlock stumbles out into the hall.

"If you'd like to know how I predict the future …"

John interrupts him, anger in his voice.

"I don't care how."

"Okay. Fully equipped ambulance; Molly can examine me on the way. It'll save time.

Ready to go, Molly? Just tell me when to cough."

Sherlock strolls past John, Molly, and I.

"Hope you remembered my coat."

Molly shakes her head and looks up at us confused.

"Wh… I… Sorry. I didn't know that you were gonna be here. Absolutely no idea what's going on."

John sighs.

"Sherlock's using again."

"Oh God. But, um, a-are you sure?"

"No. It's Sherlock. Of course, I'm not sure. Just check him out."

I step out of the flat and step beside Molly.

"John, did you see him? You can't fake that. Take it from someone who knows first hand."

John and I get into the limo that Sherlock's lunch date had sent for us.

"Did you know about this?"

I shake my head.

"Not a clue. But he needs your help, John."

"Why does he need help, why can't you help him?" 

"Because I can't understand why he needs to go back to drugs all the time when I can stay away from them. You are more… understanding with him then I can be."

John goes quiet. I know why Sherlock is going back to drugs this time, but that's how I feel every time he does. I don't understand why, nor can my brain being to process why he would when he has been doing so well about staying away from them. But while John may not understand he can be more understanding toward Sherlock then I can when he's going through this. When I glance over to John it looks as though he is listening to someone else in the car. Before long we get to a large building and stop out front.

"What are we doing at a hospital."

John scoffs and gets out of the car.

"Why you keep putting up with him, I don't know."

"Because that's what you do when you love someone. You stick with them through thick and thin."

"You can't even stay in the same flat with him right now."

"No, I can't stay in the same flat as drugs, he just brought them there."

Outside the building, a large billboard is being carried away by a couple of people. The image shows someone – presumably a man but the picture only shows him from the neck down – wearing a suit and tie and holding up a large sharp knife covered with blood. To the right of the person, the text reads ROWBANK MEDIA. A ROWBANK ORIGINAL SERIOUS. ROUGE. SERIES PREMIERE 8TH MARCH. EXCLUSIVE TO PLAY TV.

As the billboard is carried away, behind it the limousine turns into the forecourt.

The ambulance is parked nearby with its back doors open and he walks over to where Molly is sitting on the back step slightly hunched over and with her hands clasped in her lap. Sherlock is lying on the stretcher inside but now stands up.

"Well? How is he?"

Sherlock shrugs.  
"Basically fine."

He takes off his dressing gown and reaches down to pick up his coat which is lying on the stretcher.

Molly takes a deep breath.

"I've seen healthier people on the slab."

"Yeah but, to be fair, you work with murder victims. They tend to be quite young."

He puts his coat on.

"Not funny."

"It's a little bit funny."

"If you keep taking what you're taking at the rate you're taking it, you've got weeks."

Sherlock comes to the doorway and holds onto the poles either side and steps down to the ground, then totters on the spot.

"Exactly, weeks. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

I walk up to him and get a few inches from his face.

"Sherlock, listen to me. The only reason I haven't hit you is because we are in public. But if you don't start taking this seriously, that will change."

Molly stands up.

"For Christ's sake, Sherlock, it's not a game!"

Sherlock turns to face Molly.

"I'm worried about you, Molly. You seem very stressed."

"I'm stressed; you're dying."

"Yeah, well, I'm ahead, then. Stress can ruin every day of your life. Dying can only ruin one."

I take a deep breath as John steps between Sherlock and me.

"So this is real? You've Really lost it. You're actually out of control."

"When have I ever been that?"

"Since the day I met you."

"Oh, clever boy. I've missed you fumbling 'round the place"

John turns his attention to Molly.

"I thought this was some kind of… trick.."

"'Course it's not a trick. It's a plan."

Just then the man who has in the commercial on the billboard walks up to us. I believe this is Smith, the man Sherlock had been accusing of being a serious killer for the past two weeks.

"Mr. Holmes."

John looks past Sherlock's shoulder to where the voice came from. Smith is coming out of the doors of a building marked VILLAGE STUDIOS, a man walks alongside filming him as more people come out of the doors behind them. Sherlock looks at John and me.

"Thirty feet and closing: the most significant undetected serial killer in British criminal history. Help me bring him down."

"What?... What plan?"

"I'm not telling you. Either of you."

"Why not?"

"Because you won't like it."

"We already don't like it."

Sherlock turns to face him. Smith stops a few feet away. A cameraman and another man hurry around behind us so that they can film Smith from the front.

"I don't do handshakes. It'll have to be a hug."

Smith starts to walk towards Sherlock again. Reporters holding notebooks gather around them. Chuckling, Smith reaches out and hugs him. Sherlock leans down into the man's embrace. Resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder, Smith pats his back.

"Oh, Sherlock. What can I say? Thanks to you … we're, uh, we're everywhere!"

The reporters begin asking questions.

"Mr. Holmes, how did Culverton talk you into this?"

"Well, he-he's a detective. Maybe I just confessed!"

The reporters and Smith laugh. He looks at Sherlock and beckons him towards the building.

"Come on."

Starting to follow him, Sherlock turns and throws a significant, perhaps pleading, look to John and me, who follows him. Molly watches us go, looking worried, as the reporter and Smith continue.

"Now, it's a… it's a new kind of breakfast cereal."

"Mr. Holmes, can you put on the hat?"

John shakes his head.

"Yeah, he doesn't really wear the hat."

"Kids will be getting two of their five-a-day before they've even left home!"

Smith continues, leading us into the children's ward of the hospital and is standing in the middle of a play area in a children's ward. Child patients and their nurses and other support staff are sitting and standing around him.

"Right, here he comes, the internet, 'tec! You all know Sherlock Holmes."

The children cheer and applaud.

"Hello."

Smith walks closer to him as the applause dies down.

"Oh, and Doctor Watson, of course. And the lovely Madison Holmes."

Sherlock and I respond simultaneously.

"Love!"

"Oh, sorry… Madison Love. It seems that our great detective here can't commit."

Smith laughs.

"Mr. Holmes. I was wondering – well ... we all were, weren't we? – maybe you could tell us about some of your cases."

"No."

John sighs.

"Yes."

"Yes! Absolutely, yes."

Sherlock goes into lecture mode as he walks forward into the circle of children.

"The main feature of interest in the field of criminal investigation is not the sensational aspects of the crime itself, but rather the iron chain of reasoning, from cause to effect, that reveals – step by step – the solution. That's the only truly remarkable aspect of the entire affair. Now, I will share with you the facts and evidence as they were available to me, and in this very room you will all attempt to solve the case of Blessington the Poisoner."

I chuckle, trying to act happy around the children.

"Darling, I think you slightly gave away the ending."

"There were five main suspects."

John nods.

"One of them called Blessington."

"But it's more about how he did it."

John and I glance at each other, speaking simultaneously.

"Poison?"

The children laugh.

"Okay. Drearcliff House. Remember that one, John? One murder, ten suspects. All of them guilty."

"Sherlock…"

"Uh, wh-wh-wh-what did you call that one, John? Um, something to do with murder at the zoo.

"Yeah, I called it Murder at the Zoo."

"Or-or was it The Case of the Killer Orang-Utan?"

"Sherlock…. Norbury…"

As I say this Sherlock takes a deep breath.

"Thank you, Madison. So, any more questions?"

Several of the kids shake her heads. As I look over to John, he has the same look on his face he had in the limo. As I reach out to touch John's arm, he comes back to and Smith begins to speak.

"Mr. Holmes? How do you catch a serial killer?"

"Same way you catch any other killer."

"No, but m-most killers kill someone they know."

"You're looking for a murderer in a tiny social grouping."

One of the nurses steps forward.

"Um, Mr. Smith. Um, I'm-I'm just, er, wondering. Maybe this isn't a suitable subject for the children."

"Nurse Cornish. How long have you been with us now?"

"Seven years."

"Seven years. Okay. Serial killers choose their victims at random. Surely that must make it more difficult?"

"Some of them advertise."

"Do they really?"

"Serial killing is an expression of power, ego, a signature in human destruction. Ultimately, for full satisfaction, it requires... plain sight. Additionally, serial killers are easily profiled. They tend to be social outcasts, educationally subnormal."

"No-no-no-no-no-no. You're just talking about the ones you know, the ones you've caught. But hello, dummy, you only catch the dumb ones. Now, imagine if the Queen wanted to kill some people. What would happen then? All that power, all that money. Sweet little government dancing attendance. A whole country just to keep her warm and ... and fat. Hm… We all love the Queen, don't we? And I bet she'd love you lot!"

John steps forward.

"Uh, it-it's all right, everyone. I can personally assure you that Sherlock Holmes is not about to arrest the Queen."

"Well, of course not! Not Her Majesty! Money, power, fame. Some things make you untouchable. God save the Queen! She could open a slaughterhouse and we'd all probably pay the entrance fee!"

I shake my head and glare at Smith.

"No one's untouchable."

"No one? Look at you all! So gloomy! Can't you take a joke? The Queen! If the Queen was a serial killer, I'd be the first person she'd tell! We have that kind of friendship! A big round of applause for Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson, and Madison Love! Come on! Wonderful!"

He chuckles and applauds while the audience clap rather unenthusiastically. He turns to smile at Sherlock, who gazes back at him intensely.

"Thank you so much for coming. Thank you."

Sherlock's eyes lift to meet John's. John returns the look. It's clear that he's now fully on board. Not long afterward, Smith leads us through a bright white-painted corridor.

"Where are we going on?"

"Oh, I wanted to show you my favorite room."

"No, let's go in here."

As we walk past a door Sherlock glances towards it, then does a double-take. The door has a window in it and he pulls the door open and goes inside. A sign on the wall inside shows that this is Suite W34, Directors Boardroom B-2. There's a white rectangular table in the middle with three chairs on each side and one at each end, and there are drug stands beside each of the side chairs. Sherlock walks around the table, gesturing towards it.

"So you've had another one of your little meetings."

"Oh, it's just a monthly top-up. Confession is good for the soul ... providing you can delete it."

John looks closely at a bag hanging from one of the stands.

"What's TD12?"

I glance over at John.

"It's a memory inhibitor."

"Bliss."

"Bliss?"

"Opt-in ignorance. Makes the world go round."

I scoff.

"Anyone ever 'opt' to remember?"

"Some people take the drip out, yeah. Some people have the same ... urges. Huh... come on. Wasting time."

Sherlock nods.

"Indeed, you have, I estimate, twenty minutes left."

Smiling, Smith walks towards the door which Smith is about to push open. Smith turns back towards us.

"I'm sorry."

"I sent a text from your phone, remember? It was read almost immediately. Factoring in a degree of shock, an emotional decision and a journey time based on the associated address, I'd say that your life as you know it has twenty minutes left to run. Well, no, seventeen and a half, to be precise but I rounded up for dramatic effect, so please do show us your favorite room. It'll give you a chance to say ... goodbye."

Smith chuckles, rather unpleasantly.

"Come along."

He turns around. Sherlock pulls a brief humorless smile behind him, then heads for the door which Smith is holding open for him. They walk away, Smith letting the door go behind him. John walks towards it. Shortly afterward, we find ourselves in an elevator. John has his head lowered and he and I are pinching the bridge of our noses. Sherlock looks uncomfortable and twitchy.

"Speaking of serial killers, you know who's my favorite?"

"Other than yourself?"

"H. H. Holmes. Relative of yours?"

"Not as far as I know."

"You should check. What an idiot."

Smith pushes through a set of double doors and looks around the room as he walks in.

"Everyone out."

The three of us stop just inside the doors. Deeper in the room, a body is lying on a silver chrome examination table, covered by a sheet up to its neck. A male mortician stands at the other side of the table holding a clipboard and pen. He is wearing green scrubs with a blue disposable plastic apron over the top. A woman, similarly dressed, is nearby with her hands on a wheeled trolley with medical equipment on it. Tall silver-colored cabinet doors are set into the walls. The man looks up at Smith. The mortician looks up a little confused.

"Mr. Smith, we're actually in the middle of something."

"Saheed, isn't it? How long have you been working here now?"

"Four years."

"Four years. Well, that's a long time, isn't it? Four years."

Saheed nods his head, swallowing nervously, then looks around at the woman and to other two men in the room.

"Okay, everyone. Five minutes?"

"Come back in ten."

Looking at Smith nervously for a moment, Saheed turns away and his colleagues start towards the door. John steps aside to get out of their way. Saheed follows his co-workers. The three of us walk closer to the examination table and Smith wanders round to the other side of the table. John shakes his head.

"How can you do that? I mean, how-how are you even allowed in here?"

"Oh, I-I can go anywhere I like."

Smith takes a ring of many keys from his trouser pocket, holds them up and shakes them noisily.

"Anywhere at all."

"They gave you keys?"

"They presented 'em to me. There was a ceremony. You can watch that on YouTube."

Sherlock has walked over to one of the nearby cabinets and pulls open the door.

"Home Secretary was there."

Sherlock looks into the cabinet and the slide-out shelves in there.

"So, your favorite room: the mortuary."

"What do you think?"

"Tough crowd."

"Oh, I don't know."

Smith pulls back the sheet on the table to reveal the head and shoulders of the corpse. There is a Y-shaped cut, sewn up, in the chest. I take a deep breath and step away from the table, John looks back at me confused.

"Are you okay?"

I nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Smith has kept this attention on Sherlock.

"No, I've always found 'em quite pliable."

As he says the last word, he reaches out to the body – which we can now see is an elderly woman – and pulls her jaw down with his fingers. John steps towards him.

"Don't do that."

"She's fine. She's dead. H. H. Holmes loved the dead. He mass-produced 'em."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Serial killer, active during the Chicago Fair."

"Did you know what he did? He built a hotel, a special hotel, just to kill people. You know, with a hanging room, gas chamber, specially adapted furnace. You know, like Sweeney Todd… without the pies! Stupid. So stupid."

Instantly John grabs the sheet and pulls it over the woman's face as Smith steps away.

"Why stupid?"

"Well, all that effort. You don't build a beach if you want to hide a pebble; you just find a beach! And if you wanna hide a murder, or wanna hide lots and lots of murders, just find a... hospital."

John lowers his head in disbelief for a moment, I raise my head and takes a step closer.

"Are you confessing?"

"To what?"

"The way you're talking."

"Oh, sorry. Yes. You mean, am I a serial killer, or am I just trying to mess with your funny little head? Well, it's true. I do like to mess with people … and yes, I am a bit creepy, but that's just my U.S.P. I use it to sell breakfast cereal. But am I what he says I am? Is that what you're asking?"

Smith walks past John and I continuing along the side of the table. John turns as he and I watch him.

"Yes."

"Hm. Well, let me ask you this. Are you really a doctor?"

"Of course I am."

"Well, no, a medical doctor, you know. Not just feet, or media studies or something."

John scoffs.

"I am a Doctor."

"Are you serious? No, really, are you?"

Smith e turns to walk away, then turns back and takes a couple of steps towards John, looking angrily at him.

"Are you ... are you actually serious? I've played along with this joke. It's not funny anymore. No ... look at him."

He gestures towards Sherlock who really does look like he's badly in need of a hit. He's blinking frequently in between widening his eyes in an attempt to keep them open and blowing out silent but heavy breaths.

"Go ahead, look at him, Doctor Watson! Hm? Oh, no, I'll lay it out for you. There are two possible explanations for what's going on 'ere. Either I'm a serial killer … or Sherlock Holmes is off his tits on drugs, hm? Delusional paranoia about a public personality? That's not so special. It's not even new! I think you need to, er, tell your faithful little friend how you're wasting his time because you're too high to know what's real anymore." 

Smith turns and walks away, stopping a few paces away with his back to Sherlock. John frowns, apparently wondering what to believe.

"I apologise."

Smith turns to Sherlock as he speaks.

"I've miscalculated. I forgot to factor in the traffic! Nineteen and a half minutes."

Clearing his throat he continues onwards a couple of steps, then stops and turns his left side towards the doors, dramatically cupping his left hand to his ear as there's a clunking sound some distance away.

"Ah, the footsteps you're about to hear will be very familiar to you, not least because there'll be three impacts rather than two. The third, of course, will be the end of a walking cane. Your daughter Faith's walking cane."

"And why would she be here?"

I step forward, finally, I don't have to act stupid.

"Because you invited her."

Sherlock nod.

"You sent her a text – or-or-or technically I sent her a text but she's not to know. Ah, let's see if I can recall. 'Faith... I can stand it no longer, I've confessed... to my crimes. Please forgive me!' Something like that."

"Why would that have any effect? You don't know her."

"Oh, but I do. I spent a whole evening with her. We had chips. I think she liked me."

I shake my head.

"Excuse me."

Smith tilts his head slightly.

"You don't know Faith. You simply do not."

"I know you care about her deeply. I know you invited her to one of your special board meetings. You care what she thinks. You maintain an impressive façade. I think it's about to break. Well, let's see, shall we? Faith, stop loitering at the door and come in! This is your father's favorite room."

The door opens and a pretty, thin, young mid blonde haired lady walks into the room with a walking cane.

"Come and meet his best friends."

"Dad? What's happening? What was that text? Are you having one of your jokes?"

She chuckles, then stops walking forward and looks inquiringly at Sherlock.

"Who are you?"

John frowns at her question. Sherlock lowers his chin, flashing back to a close-up rear view of the hair of the woman who stood at his window three weeks ago, before focusing in on the hairline and then the mouth of the woman in front of him. He lowers his gaze to her hand leaning on her walking cane and the gold patterning on the stick. Sherlock raises his gaze to this Faith's face before he screws his eyes shut.

"Sherlock? What is it?"

"Who the hell are you?"

He calls out to Faith as his eyes snap open.

Smith walks across the room to the Faith.

"Sherlock Holmes! Surely you recognize him."

"Oh my god!"

"Mm!"

She gasps and looks at her father, smiling, before looking up to Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes! I love your blog."

"You're not her. You're not the woman who came to Baker Street."

"Um, well, no. Never been there."

"Sorry, I'm not sure I completely understand."

"U-understand what?"

Smith walks to stand between the two of them and gesturing at both.

"Well, I thought you, two were-were old friends!"

Faith giggles a little.

"No! We've never met."

Sherlock moves towards Faith and raising a hand to his mouth as he chuckles.

"Oh, dear! Oh!"

"Have we?"

Smith keeps laughing, as John and I step towards Sherlock.

"Sherlock?"

"Darling?"

Faith lets out a nervous laugh and Smith is still chuckling. Sherlock stares down towards the floor.

"So who came to my flat?"

"Well, it wasn't me. I wasn't there. I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, but… I don't think I've ever been anywhere near your flat."

Smith cackles with delight. Sherlock screws his eyes shut. Sherlock's lower lip trembles and his eyes are wide with shock. Smith continues to laugh uproariously. Sherlock stares downwards for a few moments before his eyes, start to widen. Sherlock raises both hands and covers his nose and mouth, shocked and breathing out a horrified breath as he slowly backs away. Smith continues to cackle delightedly. Sherlock blows out a couple more sharp breaths and takes his hands away from his face. He briefly flashes back to the empty riverside bench. Sherlock shakes his head and raises his hands again, pressing the sides of his thumbs to his eyes as he screws them shut.

"God!"

As Smith's manic cackling continues, Sherlock's head jolts and the room starts to come into focus again. Sherlock buries his head in his hands and can see a flashback of him holding his phone with the photograph of Smith and Faith. He lowers the phone and the client chair comes into focus, but it's empty. In the mortuary, Sherlock opens his eyes and drags his hands down his face, rubbing one across his mouth. Still, Smith laughs as Sherlock's hand trembles. He clenches both hands into fists, pressing them against his mouth and screwing up his eyes again before lowering his hands a little, shaking his head in denial. He flails his hands in front of him as Smith continues to cackle. Putting one hand to his head, Sherlock turns away from him, bumping into a tray on a stand. The tray rattles noisily and he flinches away, focusing briefly on the row of six scalpels lying on it. Nearby John looks at him in concern as he continues to spin. John jumps forward toward Sherlock, putting an arm out in front of me.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock stops and faces Smith, who points at him, still laughing. I step forward, but John doesn't let me by him.

"Sherlock? Are you all right? Sherlock, are you okay?"

Wide-eyed, Sherlock points a shaking hand at Smith.

"Watch him. He's got a knife."

Smith laughs incredulously.

"I've got a what?!" 

"You've got a scalpel! You picked it up from that table. "

He points to the tray which is now several feet away from him. There's a gap in the row of scalpels and only five remains.

"I saw you take it."

"I certainly did not!"

Even though Smith is talking and not laughing."

"Look behind his back!"

Smith smiles, bringing both hands up and waves them in the air.

"What?"

Sherlock is almost hysterical at this point.

"I saw you take it! I saw you!"

As he speaks he points his right arm at Smith, brandishing the scalpel he's holding. Smith's smile turns to a look of alarm as he keeps his hands in the air and backs away.

John now steps in front of me, as I call out to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, calm down. Don't do anything rash."

John holds out a stern hand to Sherlock.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa. Whoa, Sherlock, d'you wanna put that down?"

Sherlock stares wide-eyed at the scalpel in his shaking hand. Smith and Faith continue to make noises of concern while John shakes his head anxiously, his eyes fixed on Sherlock's hand. The sound of Smith's laughter continues to echo. Sherlock lowers his head and shakes it, screwing his eyes shut, then stumbles back and raises his head, glaring savagely at Smith and pointing his left hand at him.

"Stop laughing at me."

"Sherlock, no one is laughing."

He surges forward towards Smith with his right arm held forward and the scalpel aimed at the Smith. John shoulders jumping in front of Sherlock. John seizes Sherlock's lower arm with his left hand and turns his left shoulder into Sherlock's body, then slams his hand down onto Sherlock's hand and knocks the scalpel out of it. As it clatters noisily to the floor he turns and seizes Sherlock's coat with both hands and bundles him backward across the room and slams him hard into one of the cabinet doors. Sherlock grunts in pain.

"Stop it!"  
John yells at him, he pulls Sherlock forward a little and then slams him back against the cabinet again.

"Stop it now!"

John punches Sherlock a few times before I step forward, grabbing John's arm. Crying out, Sherlock falls to the floor. Gasping, he props himself up on his right arm, his nose bleeding.

"John stop."

"Is this… a game? A bloody game?"

"John, just stop."

Sherlock takes a deep breath.

"No, it's okay. I killed his wife."

"Yes, you did."

He holds Sherlock's gaze, breathing heavily through his nose. Sherlock continues to look up at him for a moment and then slowly, oh so slowly, his eyes gradually lower away from John's face.


	39. In the Cane

Chapter Thirty-Nine

In the Cane

Of course, after the situation in the morgue Sherlock was admitted to the hospital, luck of us Smith didn't feel the need to press charges. Sherlock had asked John to bring him his old walking cane. John had gone to get it while I stayed with Sherlock in the hospital room. Before long after John arrived back, we were told that we weren't allowed to stay in the room overnight, so I decided to go back to the flat and John ops to come with me if for no more then to help me clean. Molly had gone to John's flat and had taken over for the babysitter. She had texted me and said that she had already planned to stay all night and to just take care of Sherlock. When we get back to the flat, we are met with the pleasant surprise of Mycroft and a few agents looking through the flat and even cleaning it up a bit.

"Mycroft to what do we owe the pleasure."

"Madison, I half expected to hear you had left my brother after this little stunt of his."

"Never Mycroft. While I may not agree with his decisions, I still love him."

Mycroft shrugs his shoulders.

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question, Mycroft."

"Have you noticed the kitchen? It's practically a meth lab. I'm trying to establish exactly what drove Sherlock off the rails. Any ideas."

I give Mycroft a stern look, as John does into the kitchen and turns back to Mycroft and me.

"Are these spooks? Uh, are you using spooks now to look after your family? Hang on – are they tidying?"

"Sherlock is a security concern. The fact that I'm his brother changes nothing."

John walks past us and into the sitting room.

"Yeah, you said that before."

"Why fixate on Culverton Smith? He's had his obsessions before, of course, but this goes a bit further than setting a mantrap for Father Christmas. Spending all night talking to a woman who wasn't even there."

I glance over to Mycroft and back over to John, but something behind Mycroft catches my eye for a moment. I could have sworn I just saw a woman with short blonde hair standing behind Mycroft. But when I look back there is nothing there. I must be losing my mind. John folds his arms in front of him.

"Mycroft, last time when we were on the phone …"

"No-no-no-no, stop. I detest conversation in the past tense."

"You said the fact that you were his brother made no difference."

"It doesn't."

"You said it didn't the last time and it wouldn't with Sherlock, so who was it the last time? Who were you talking about?"

I nod and step beside John.

"I've heard you say that too, on a number of occasions."

"Nobody. I ... misspoke."

As Mycroft says this I hear a woman's voice.

"He's lying."

As I glance around it's clear that is was in my head, but it would appear that John had heard it too.

"You're lying."

"I assure you I'm not."

"Sherlock's not your only brother. There's another one, isn't there?"

"No."

I scoff.

"You bastard. What is your other brother locked away somewhere."

Mycroft raises his head and looks down his nose at John. I step forward and in between the two of them.

"Mycroft Holmes, if you don't wish to talk to us about this you can tell me what all are these dreadful people doing in my house?"

"I apologize for the interruption. As you know, my brother has embarked on a programme of self-destruction remarkable even by his standards, and I am endeavoring to find out what triggered it."

"And that's what you're all looking for?"

"Quite so."

"What's on his mind? And you've had all this time?"

"Time being something of which we don't have an infinite supply… so if we could be about our business?"

I laugh softly as Mycroft looks at me confused.

"He thinks you're clever. Poor Sherlock; always going on about you. but he has no idea what an idiot you are!"

"Is this merely stream-of-consciousness abuse, or are you attempting to make a point?"

"You want to know what's bothering Sherlock? Easiest thing in the world; anyone can do it."

"I know his thought processes better than any other human being, so please try to understand …"

"He's not about thinking, not Sherlock."

"Of course he is."

"No, no. He's more ... emotional, isn't he?"

At this point, I heard Mrs. Hudson come in behind us.

"She's right you know. Unsolved case: shoot the wall. Unmade breakfast: karate the fridge! Unanswered question … Well, what does he do with anything he can't answer, every time?"

"He stabs the mantelpiece."

"Anything he can't find the answer for: … bang!"

While Mrs. Hudson and I speaking, John has focused in on the knife stabbed into the white padded envelope. John pulls the knife from the padded envelope and turns around and reaches in for the contents while Mrs. Hudson continues.

"It's up there. I keep telling him: if he was any good as a detective, I wouldn't need a new mantel."

John pulls out the white DVD with its handwritten MISS ME? message on it, that Sherlock and I had watched earlier. His eyes widen and he looks up, startled, at Mycroft and then looks across to Mrs. Hudson and I. John puts the discs into the television in the corner of the room near the kitchen. All the spooks have stopped their work and stand to watch the screen. Mycroft stands in the middle of the room with his hand raised to the side of his face, looking intrigued as he watches the TV. Mrs. Hudson is sitting on the edge of John's chair, I am standing beside Sherlock's chair, and John himself stands between the two of us, a look of devastation on his face as Mary's voice comes from the speakers.

"If you're watching this, I'm ... probably dead."

John straightens up and backs away from the TV, holding out one hand.

"Okay, no. S-stop that now, please."

I pause the video, as he turns away, biting his lip and slowly walks across the room. Mrs. Hudson and I glance at each other before moving to get everyone out of the flat.

"Everybody out, now!"

Mrs. Hudson takes a deep breath.

"This is my house … this is my friend ... and that's his departed wife. Anyone who stays here a minute longer is admitting to me personally they do not have a single spark of human decency."

John has turned around as she spoke. After a brief hesitation, and with nobody looking towards Mycroft for confirmation or permission, everybody else turns and quietly starts to leave the room. Mycroft remains where he is, his arms folded in front of him as he faces the TV. Mrs. Hudson looks at him, then walks across to stand close to him. She leans even closer.

"Get out of my house, you reptile."

He stares at her, startled. Not breaking eye contact, she gestures towards the door with the remote control. After a moment, looking as if he can't believe that he's doing what he's told, he unfolds his arms and turns towards Sherlock's chair to collect his umbrella. Once he is gone I place a hand on John's shoulder and he nods for us to continue the video. John sits in front of the TV and stares at it with tears in his eyes.

"I'm giving you two a case. Might be the hardest case of your career. When I'm ... gone – if I'm gone – I need you to do something for me. Save John Watson. Save him, Sherlock, Madison. Save him. Don't think anyone else is going to save him, because there isn't anyone. It's up to you two. Save him. But I do think you're gonna need a little bit of help with that because you two are not exactly good with people, so here are a few things you need to know about the man we all love – and more importantly what you're going to need to do to save him. John Watson never accepts help, not from anyone. Not ever. But here's the thing: he never refuses it. So, here's what you are going to do. You can't save John because he won't let you. He won't allow himself to be saved. The only way to save John ... is to make him save you. Sherlock, I know you'll never let Madison put herself in a dangerous situation, so it's up to you. So, go to Hell, Sherlock. Go right into Hell, and make it look like you mean it. Go and pick a fight with a bad guy. Put yourself in harm's way. If he thinks you need him, I swear… he will be there."

Once the video is finished, John hurries out into the street looking down at his phone. He hasn't even stopped to put on his jacket. As he walks to the curb and looks down the room, trying to find a taxi, Mrs. Hudson and I hurry out as well, but Mrs. Hudson stops on the doorstep.

"John! Madison! My car."

He holds up a hand in acknowledgment and heads briskly down the road, looking down at his phone. Raising it to his ear, he breaks into a run, I do the same, running after him. Once we are in the car we speed away, John on the phone with Greg.

"Greg. Is Sherlock alright? Can you make sure? Please, I don't think he's safe. I don't know! Something! Mary left a message."

It doesn't take long for John and me to get to the hospital and we both dive out of the car. Running into the building, not stopping once we get inside. John runs out ahead of me, running down the hall to the room that Sherlock should be in, it's not hard to find since there is an officer outside of it. When we get there, there is a nurse and an officer trying to force the door open.

"It's jammed."

"It's what?"

John moves and tries to open the door. Throwing himself against the door a few times before getting a fire extinguisher to get the door open, ramming his way into the room, breaking the door lock in the process. When the door opens we see Smith is standing over Sherlock, he turns to us, straightening up and releasing Sherlock, who noisily hauls in a long painful breath. As the heart monitor starts to blip again, John drops the fire extinguisher as storms into the room, and I follow behind him. John surges across the room and wraps his arm around Smith's neck, bundling him away from the bed, as I rush over to Sherlock.

"Oh, Sherlock."

I hear John behind me.

"What were you doing to him?"

Smith whimpers plaintively. Sherlock moves weakly on the bed, I take Sherlock's hand, as John shouts.

"What were you doing?!"

"He's in distress! I-I'm helping him!"

I turn as John hurls Smith into the confused Officer's hands.

"Restrain him, now. Do it!"

The officer takes hold of Smith's arms from behind. Smith gestures towards the bed.

"I was trying to help him!"

I turn back to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, what was he doing to you."

Sherlock tries to take a deep breath but is still weak.

"Suffocating me, overdosing me."

He points walk towards the drug stand. I hear John take a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"On What?" 

"Saline."

"Saline?"

"Yeah, Saline."

Sherlock props himself up onto his right elbow, still breathing hard. With his left hand, he reaches to the panel at the side of the bed and holds down the button which begins to raise the head of the bed. Sherlock groans and breathes out shakily. Smith looks worriedly towards John's back, as he looks over the drip bag.

"Obviously I got Nurse Cornish to switch the bags. She's a big fan, you know? Loves my blog."

John nods.

"Are you okay?"

I shake my head and look over to Sherlock and scoff softly.

"Of course not. He's malnourished, probably has double kidney failure,"

Sherlock nods.

"And frankly I've been off my tits for weeks. What kind of a doctor are you? I got my confession, though, didn't I?"

John and I turn towards Smith, who pulls himself free of the officer.

"Huh! I don't recall making any confession. What would I be confessing to?"

"You can listen to it later."

"But there is no confession to listen to! Oh, Mr. Holmes. I-I don't know if this is relevant, but we found three potential recording devices in the pockets of your coat. Um, all your possessions were searched. Sorry."

I look to Sherlock over my shoulder, leaning against the side of the bed, crossing my arms.

"Must be something comforting about the number three. People always give up after three."

Sherlock and I both turn our gaze to Smith, who stares back at us in horror. John looks over at us.

"What? What is it? What?"

Sherlock and I stay silent, a slight smile forming on our faces as we wait. After a moment John sighs in exasperation.

"You two… you two belong together, you know that? You too are complete and utter cocks."

"Heard you say that before."

I nod.

"Both of them actually."

John shakes his head stepping across to the chair by the door and picking up his old walking cane.

"So how does it open?"

"Screw the top."

John takes hold of the handle and starts to turn it, while Smith watches with a grim expression on his face. John pulls the handle off the cane, revealing a small device inside the stick which is glowing bright red. John pulls the recording device out and the bulb goes out. He looks across to Sherlock and me.

"Two weeks ago?"

Sherlock and I chuckle, looking at each other before answering.

"Three."

"I'm that predictable?"

"No. His just a cock."


	40. Happy Birthday

Chapter Forty

Happy Birthday

Once he was arrested Smith couldn't stop confessing to anything and everything he could think of. Honestly, it was hard to keep track of what he did and what he didn't, but he was behind bars and that's what mattered. It had been about a few days and Sherlock was allowed to come home, well he wasn't allowed to come home so much as he left the hospital. But either way, he and I were both home and John, Molly, and I had set up shifts to watch both Sherlock and Rosie. Mostly to make sure that Sherlock didn't use again. John was getting ready to leave, while Sherlock was sitting in his chair, holding a mug with both hands, in his dark blue dressing gown. While he still hasn't shaven he at least looks much clearer than he did at the hospital. The room has also been cleaned up, thanks to the help of Mrs. Hudson. All of the photos and evidence of Smith is gone and the fire is lit.

"Of course, I hadn't really anticipated that I'd hallucinated meeting his daughter."

"Yeah, we are gonna need to talk about that."

"Why?"

"Uhh… you took someone else on a date, which is more then you've even done with me."

"Oh, would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight."

I shake my head.

"Can you even walk straight right now?"

"Still a bit troubled by the daughter. Did seem very real, and she gave me information I couldn't have acquired elsewhere."

John lifts his eyes to Sherlock, whose left eye is still bloodshot, though not as badly as it was in the hospital, and the skin underneath is swollen.

"But she wasn't ever here?"

"Interesting, isn't it? I have theorised before that if one could attenuate to every available data stream in the world simultaneously, it would be possible to anticipate and deduce almost anything."

"Hm. So you dreamed up a magic woman who told you things you didn't know."

"Perhaps the drugs opened certain doors in my mind. I'm intrigued."

"Oh, I know you are."

I nod.

"We both do."

"which is why we're all taking it in turns to keep you off the sweeties."

"I thought we were just hanging out."

"Madison, taking over my last twenty minutes?"

Sherlock sighs.

"I can last twenty minutes."

I look over to him.

"Well, you won't have to, since I'm here. But John, please say, even if for a little while longer."

John nods.

"Uh, sorry, it's just, um, you know, Rosie."

"Yes, of course."

John looks to Sherlock.

"You'll be okay for twenty minutes?"

"Yes. Yes! Sorry, I-I wasn't thinking of Rosie."

"No problem."

"I should, uh, come and see her soon. She's seen so much of the girls lately, I doubt she even knows who I am many more."

"Yeah."

I smile softly and hear the faint voice of a woman, the same voice I had heard when Mycroft was there.

"Get him to stay. Find a case for the three of you and make him wear the hat."

John turns back from the door, Sherlock lowers his head, looking very lonely,.

"Oh, by the way, the recordings will probably be inadmissible."

"Sorry what?"

"Well, technically, it's entrapment so it might get thrown out as evidence. Not that that matters; apparently he can't stop confessing."

"That's good."

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

John nods, flexing the fingers of his left hand for a moment, then turns towards the door. Mary watches him, a hopeful and expectant look on her face. Sherlock looks down at his mug again, then raises his head, before standing, as John answers.

"Uh, what, am I ... no, no, I'm not okay. I'm never gonna be okay... but we'll just have to accept that. It is what it is; and what it is is ... shit."

Sherlock lowers his eyes and nods understandingly. John pulls in a breath through his nose and lowers his own head.

"You didn't kill Mary. Mary died saving your life. It was her choice. No-one made her do it. No-one could ever make her do anything … but the point is: you did not kill her."

"In saving my life, she conferred a value on it. It is a currency I do not know how to spend."

John looks at Sherlock for a while, looks away and then turns back to him.

"It is what it is. Uh, I'm tomorrow, six 'til ten. I'll see you then."

"Looking forward to it."

As John steps to leave, I move in front of Sherlock.

"We can celebrate tonight together, I suppose."

"Why, you know I don't see today as anything special."

John turns and steps back into the flat looking over to Sherlock, stopping in the middle of the room, looking thoughtful to Sherlock.

"I'm gonna make a deduction."

"Oh, okay. That's good."

"And if my deduction is right, you're gonna be honest and tell me, okay?"

"Okay. Though I should mention that it is possible for any given text alert to become randomly attached to a …"

"Happy birthday."

Sherlock as he looks up at John silently for a moment, then nods his head. I smile softly at the two of them.

"Thank you, John. That's ... very kind of you."

"Never knew when your birthday was."

"Well, now you do."

"Seriously, we're not gonna talk about this?"

"Talk about what?"

"How you two work?"

Sherlock looks up to me a little confused. As John shakes his head.

"How long do you think Madison will wait for you to ask her to marry you or for you to move forward into your future together? Sherlock you two have been like this for years now, never moving forward and Madison hasn't said anything because she loves you. Do you have the first idea how lucky you are? She's a lunatic, she's insanely dangerous, and she's bloody brilliant… trust you to fall for a sociopath."

Sherlock takes a deep breath.

"As I think I have explained to you many times before, romantic entanglement, while fulfilling for other people …"

"would complete you as a human being."

I take a deep breath, trying to fight back emotional tears as John look up at me and continues.

"Because she's perfect for you and she's yours."

"Do something while there's still a chance, because that chance doesn't last forever. Trust me, Sherlock: it's gone before you know it."

He takes a deep breath and is too fighting back tears.

"She was wrong about me."

I step forward.

"Mary? How so?"

John looks towards the fireplace, then pulls in a breath and walks a little closer.

"She thought that if you put yourself in harm's way I'd ... I'd rescue you or something. But I didn't – not 'till she told me to. And that's how this works. That's what you're missing. She taught me to be the man she already thought I was. Get yourself a piece of that."

Sherlock stands and looks to me before looking to John.

"Forgive me, but you are doing yourself a disservice. I have known many people in this world but made few friends, and I can safely say …"

John looks up to us and blurts out.

"I cheated on her."

Sherlock and I stop. Quiet, trying to process the information, as John gestures towards us.

"What? No clever comebacks?"

Immediately he turns to the space between Sherlock and I, speaking as if Mary is between us.

"I cheated on you, Mary. There was a woman on the bus, and I had a plastic daisy in my hair. I'd been playing with Rosie. And this girl just smiled at me. That's all it was; it was a smile. We texted constantly. You wanna know when? Every time you left the room, that's when. When you were feeding our daughter; when you were stopping her from crying – that's when. That's all it was, just texting. But I wanted more."

Sherlock lifts his head and his eyes to John again.

"And d'you know something? I still do. I'm not the man you thought I was; I'm not that guy. I never could be. But that's the point. That's the whole point. Who you thought I was ... is the man who I want to be."

John stares ahead of himself for a long moment, then gradually lowers his head into his left hand and starts to cry. Sherlock quietly puts his mug onto the table beside him, then stands up. John sobs, tears pouring from his face and falling to the floor. Slowly Sherlock and I walk across to him. I step behind John and wrap my arms around him.

"It's okay."

"It's NOT okay."

Sherlock steps in front John and hugs him as I do.

"No. But it is what it is."

We stand there and hug John for a few minutes before he regains himself.

"So what are we doing for your birthday?"

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Nothing, please."

I smile and shake my head.

"I'm texting Molly, she'll meet us at the cafe down the road."

Sherlock sighs.

"Why? Why do we have to do anything for my birthday."

"Because you almost died three days ago."


	41. And Under We Go

Chapter Forty-One

And Under We Go

Since Sherlock didn't really want to go out for his birthday at all, we didn't stay out long. Molly brought little Rosie to the cafe and that was about the only part of the afternoon he was semi-happy about. Once we got back to the flat with John and Rosie, the boys started to question what Mycroft had been saying about 'what happened last time.'

"His said it several times. What could he mean by it?"

"Obviously, it means that I have a sister and Mycroft has her hidden away somewhere." 

I bounce Rosie on my hip.

"Hold on, this just means you have a sister somewhere. For all, we know she ran off and Mycroft didn't forgive her."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"No, whenever he thinks about him he gets very nervous. Like his scared."

John shrugs his shoulders, sitting in his chair.

"There is only one way to figure it out and Mycroft won't tell you anything. He won't tell any of us anything. Maybe we can scare it out of him."

Sherlock nods.

"That's a good idea."

He begins to gather up a few of his things and so does John.

"Madison, you don't mind staying here and watching Rosie do you?"

I sigh softly.

"I kind of do, but this is something you two need to do together so go."

I wave my hand up and gesture for them to go. John pats my shoulder as he walks by me.

"Thanks, you're the best."

"Yeah…"

I shake my head as Sherlock walks up to me, kissing my cheek before he stops looking at me oddly.

"What?"

"Nothing, you just… look very nice."

I shake my head.

"Go and scare the crap out of your brother."

After the boys leave the flat Rosie and I spend most of the night together.

"What should we do first Rosie? Huh? What should we do while we wait for Daddy and Uncle Sherlock to get home?"

I check the time and notice that it won't be long until Rosie should be in bed so I walk around the flat and bounce Rosie on my hip.

"We could play with our rattle or we could…. Find something else your daddy left here."

I look around the flat and realize that most of the stuff John had left here for John had been cleaned up, moved, and probably thrown out by Mycroft and his 'team' when they came over here after Sherlock was admitted to the hospital. Thankfully, Rosie falls asleep quickly and when she does I lay her on the couch, before putting the playpen of her's John had brought by and laying her in it. I sit on the couch and start to read a book, but before I fall asleep too. Only to be woken by the boys walking back into the flat. As I jerk up, I see John picking up Rosie, being careful not to wake her up.

"What happened?"

John sighs, bouncing Rosie to try and keep her asleep.

"Mycroft admitted to Sherlock having a sister and will be here in the morning. Or should I say in a few hours to talk to us about it. I'm gonna take Rosie home and met Molly there and I'll be back."

John heads out as Sherlock starts to put the playpen away. I sit up and rub my temples. I have a splitting headache.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I just have a headache. I think it's from falling asleep on the couch."

"Probably, better go get changed and ready for Mycroft."

"Since when do you get ready for Mycroft."

Sherlock shrugs.

"I don't know. But we do need to change for tomorrow."

I nod and stand, heading back to the bedroom, taking a quick nap before I get changed. Once I am awake and dressed I head into the bathroom and take some Advil. As I look into the mirror and start getting ready I notice a slight cramp in my lower abdomen, that continues as I walk into the main room. When I get out there, John is back and Mycroft is standing in the middle of the room. Sherlock and John are sitting in their chairs and I decide to keep my discomfort to myself, Sherlock learning about his lost sister is more important than me feeling a little sick. As I walk into the room and over to Sherlock I turn my head to Mycroft.

"They won't talk to you unless you sit in the chair."

"I'm not a client."

Mycroft snaps.

Sherlock looks forward to John.

"Then get out."

John looks up towards him, tapping the tip of his pen against the arm of his chair. Unfolding his arms and holding them out in surrender, Mycroft walks around and sits in the chair.

"So what happens now? Are you going to make deductions?"

"You're going, to tell the truth, Mycroft, pure and simple."

"Who was it said, "Truth is rarely pure, and never simple"?"

Sherlock shifting slightly to face his brother.

"I don't know and I don't care. So there were three of us. I know that now. You, me, and ... Eurus."

Mycroft nods as Sherlock continues.

"A sister I can't remember. Interesting name, Eurus. It's Greek, isn't it?"

I nod as I sit on the arm of Sherlock's chair.

"Yeah, it means The God of The East Wind."

Mycroft nods.

"Yes."

Sherlock shifts his gaze towards the floor, quoting Mycroft.

"The East Wind is coming, Sherlock.' You used that to scare me."

"No." 

"You turned my sister into a ghost story."

"Of course I didn't. I monitored you."

John looks up from his notebook.

"You What?"

"Memories can resurface; wounds can re-open. The roads we walk have demons beneath ...and yours have been waiting for a very long time. I never bullied you. I used – at discrete intervals – potential trigger words to update myself as to your mental condition. I was looking after you."

"Why can't I remember her?"

Mycroft pauses for a moment, glancing in John's direction but not looking at him, before glancing up at me.

"This is a private matter."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"John and Madison stay."

John had been about to get up but now looks across to Sherlock, surprised, I place a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Mycroft leans forward in his chair, speaking in a harsh whisper.

"This is family."

Sherlock speaks loudly and firmly.

"That's why they stay."

The brothers lock eyes for a long moment. John smiles and lowers his head. Eventually, Mycroft sits back. John clears his throat.

"So there were three Holmes kids. What was the age gap?"

"Seven years between myself and Sherlock; one year between Sherlock and Eurus."

I nod and glance over at John.

"Middle child. Explains so much."

Sherlock glances up at me as John and I smile at each other. When Sherlock moves his gaze to John, he raises his eyebrows at him and then turns his attention back to his notebook.

"So did she have it too?"

Mycroft looks over at John confused.

"Have what?"

"The deduction thing."

"More than you can know."

"Enlighten me."

"You realize I'm the smart one?"

Sherlock sighs.

"As you never cease to announce."

"but Eurus, she was incandescent even then. Our abilities were professionally assessed more than once. I was remarkable, but Eurus was described as an era-defining genius, beyond Newton."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Then why don't I remember her?"

"You do remember her, in a way. Every choice you ever made; every path you've ever taken – the man you are today ... is your memory of Eurus. She was different from the beginning. She knew things she should never have known… as if she was somehow aware of truths beyond the normal scope. The memories are disturbing."

Sherlock draws a deep breath.

"What do you mean? Examples."

"They found her with a knife once. She seemed to be cutting herself. Mother and Father were terrified. They thought it was a suicide attempt. But when I asked Eurus what she was doing, she said … ' I wanted to see how my muscles worked.'"

I shake my head as I hear John gasp.

"Jesus!"

"So I asked her if she felt pain, and she said … 'Which one's pain?'"

Sherlock turns back to Mycroft.

"What happened?"

"Musgrave. The ancestral home, where there was always honey for tea. and Sherlock played among the funny gravestones."

I look back over to Mycroft.

"Funny how?"

"They weren't real. The dates were all wrong. An architectural joke which fascinated Sherlock."

As Mycroft speaks of their childhood home Sherlock grips my hand and whispers softly.

"Help succor me now … the East winds blow. Sixteen by six …"

Mycroft joins him in singing the little tone.

"and under we go… You're starting to remember."

"Fragments."

Sherlock stands and shakes his head.

"Redbeard."

John looks confused.

"Redbeard?"

I stand and step across the boys and over behind Mycroft.

"He was Sherlock's dog growing up. He's always talking about him."

Mycroft nods looking over to him.

"Eurus took Redbeard and locked him up somewhere no-one could find him. and she refused to say where he was. She'd only repeat that song; her little ritual. We begged and begged her to tell us where he was. but she said … The song is the answer. But the song made no sense. We never found him. But she started calling him "Drowned Redbeard," so we made our assumptions. Sherlock was traumatized. Natural, I suppose – he was, in the early days, an emotional child; but after that he was different, so changed. Never spoke of it again. In time, he seemed to forget that Eurus had ever even existed."

John stands.

"How could he forget? She was living in the same house."

"No. They took her away."

"Why? You don't lock up a child because a dog goes missing."

"Quite so. It was what happened immediately afterward she started a fire in the house, burning pictures she had drawn. After that, our sister had to be taken away."

"Where?"

"Oh, some suitable place – or so everyone thought. Not suitable enough, however. She died there."

I look up to Mycroft.

"How?"

"She started another fire, one which she did not survive."

Sherlock shakes his head.

"This is a lie."

"Yes. It is also a kindness. This is the story I told our parents to spare them further pain and to account for the absence of an identifiable body."

Sherlock scoffs.

"And no doubt to prevent their further interference."

"Well, that too, of course. The depth of Eurus' psychosis and the extent of her abilities couldn't hope to be contained in any ordinary institution. Uncle Rudy took care of things."

"Where is she, Mycroft? Where's our sister?"

Mycroft takes a sharp inhale.

"There's a place called Sherrinford; an island. It's a secure and very secretive installation whose sole purpose is to contain what we call 'the uncontainables.' The demons beneath the road – this is where we trap them. Sherrinford is more than a prison or an asylum; it is a fortress built to keep the rest of the world safe from what is inside it. Heaven may be a fantasy for the credulous and the afraid, but I can give you a map reference for Hell. That's where our sister has been since early childhood. She hasn't left – not for a single day. Whoever you three met, it can't have been her."

There's a loud crash of breaking glass from the direction of the kitchen, followed by the thump of something falling to the floor. John turns to look, all of us look towards the kitchen. Beyond all the equipment on the table and a clothes airer with various bits of paperwork clipped to it, the top part of the window has been smashed in. From the floor behind the table, an adult woman's voice can be heard softly singing. It's slightly tinny and so presumably coming from a small speaker.

" I that am lost / Oh, who will find me / Deep down below / The old beech tree? Help succor me now / The East Wind's blowing / Sixteen by six, brother / And under we go. "

As Mycroft's face fills with horror, a small drone rises up from the floor and hovers sideways across the room. The drone begins to fly forward across the kitchen table, the wind from its four rotors blowing papers and other stuff off the table. As it heads towards the living room, Mycroft speaks urgently.

"Keep back! Keep as still as you can!"

John back toward the dinner table and I step back toward the door.

"What is that?"

" My soul seeks / The shade of my willow's bloom ... "

"It's a drone."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock. What's it carrying?"

Sherlock stands near the fireplace.

"What's that silver thing on top of it, Mycroft?"

"It's a DX-707. I've authorized the purchase of quite a number of these. Colloquially it is known as "the patience grenade."

The drone lands on the floor and its rotors shut down. John calls out quietly.

"Patience?"

The grenade buzzes and the top pops up a little, showing a bright red light emanating from inside the device. It repeatedly beeps quietly.

"The motion sensor has activated. If any of us move, the grenade will detonate."

From now on, everyone speaks quietly, Sherlock in particular barely moving his lips.

"How powerful?"

"It will certainly destroy this flat and kill anyone in it. Assuming walls of reasonable strength, your neighbors should be safe, but as it's landed on the floor, I am moved to wonder if the café below is open."

"It's Sunday morning, so it's closed."

John moves his eyes from the drone to Sherlock.

"What about Mrs. Hudson?"

"Going by her usual routine, I estimate she has another two minutes left."

"She keeps the vacuum cleaner at the back of the flat."

"Why?"

Mycroft questions.

"So, safer there when she's putting it away? Look, we have to move eventually. We should do it when she's safest."

"When the vacuum stops, we give her eight seconds to get to the back of the flat. She's fast when she's cleaning. Then we move. What's the trigger response time? Once we're mobile, how long before detonation?"

"We have a maximum of three seconds to vacate the blast radius."

John closes his eyes and sags slightly.

"John and I will take the windows; you two take the stairs. Help get Mrs. Hudson out too."

"Us?"

"You're closer."

"You're faster."

"Speed differential won't be as critical as the distance."

"Agreed."

The humming sound of the vacuum cleaner dies down.

"She's further away. She's moving to the back."

"I estimate we have a minute left. Is a phone call possible?"

"Phone call?"

Sherlock moves his eyes to John.

"John has a daughter. He may wish to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry, Doctor Watson. Any movement will set off the grenade. I hope you understand."

John bares his teeth, sighing silently.

"Oscar Wilde."

"What?"

"He said, "The truth is rarely pure, and never simple." It's from 'The Importance of Being Earnest.' We did it in school."

Mycroft clenches his jaw.

"So did we. Now I recall. I was Lady Bracknell."

"Yeah. You were great."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, I really do."

"Well, that's good to know. I've always wondered."

The vacuum cleaner shuts down. Sherlock gives it a few seconds, then glances at John and then to Mycroft and myself.

"Good luck."

He pauses for another moment, then starts to count more loudly.

"Three, two, one, go!"

The four of us turn and race to our exit points. Mycroft and I to the door, John to the right-hand window, and Sherlock to the left. As we clean the door, Mycroft and I jump down the stairs. Being covered in a layer of black dust. I couch as Mycroft stands, having landed on top of me.

"Are you alright, Madison?"

I nod and stand, as Mycroft helps me up.

"I think so."


	42. Sherrinford

Chapter Forty-Two

Sherrinford

Once we get out of the flat Mycroft and I meet the boys out of the stair either Mrs. Hudson. Once we get there Sherlock jumps to use this to get us into Sherrinford.

"Fantastic, we can use this to as a cover to sneak into Sherrinford."

Mycroft nods in agreement with his brother.

"If you're right and she is getting out, who knows who is running that place now."

I look between them.

"What's the plan, Sherlock?"

"We need to find a way to get on the island. With being detected, we need to make sure they don't think it is us when they bring us into the building."

Mycroft nods.

"There are several shipping routes that go past the island, we can fake a crash onto the shore."

"Perfect, how do we do that?"

"We get a ship and track one of them down."

"How are we going to disguise ourselves? I mean it's not like people have a habit of looking over Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."

"A little stage makeup." 

I shake my head as we take off for the nearest boat dock and basically stealing a boat. On the boat, we find a pair of yellow waiters, and we had grabbed two black double-breasted jackets, grey beanies, a blue jumper. Sherlock and I put on the jackets and beanies and Mycroft puts on the waiters, surprisingly the waiters are a little big for Mycroft, even with this suit on underneath them and the jumper. When we get to the island we were a message coming over the radio.

"Golf Whiskey X-ray, this is a restricted area, repeat, restricted area. You are off course. Are you receiving? Golf Whiskey X-ray, you are off course. Are you receiving?"

John takes the mic and answers.

"Yeah, receiving you. This is a distress call, repeat, distress call. We're in trouble here."

"Golf Whiskey X-ray, what is your situation? Golf Whiskey X-ray? Where are you now?"

"We're headed for the rocks. We're going to hit."

Once we 'crash' on the shore Sherlock quickly writes a message in the sand,

Tell My

Sister

I'm Here

Before he and I hide before the guards get there. When the guards get there, Sherlock and I emerge with them, blending in with them. Mycroft is posing as a sailor, whoms boat we had hijacked to get to the shore and John stands next to him.

"He stole our boat! Him an' another fella an' a young dam, with guns!"

The guards take the two of them to a holding ceil and Sherlock and I follow. The two of us standing in the ceil to 'guard' them, until the governor gets there. Once the governor is in the room with us, Mycroft stands.

"This is a mistake. I'm the victim 'ere. This man stole my boat. 'e's a pirate."

He jerks a finger down to John, who grins and nods.

"Yeah, I really am."

The governor just shakes his head.

"Please, sit down."

"I don't even know who 'e is!"

Mycroft sits.

"He's Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. What are you doing here?"

"It's a hospital. Any work?"

"It's not a hospital."

Still looking at the people opposite him, he holds out a pass towards the Sherlock.

"I want eyes on Eurus Holmes. Go straight to the Special Unit, deploy Green and Yellow Shift on my authority."

Sherlock answers in a northern Irish accent.

"Sir."

Turning around, Sherlock raises the pass to a camera above the door. The door buzzes and unlocks and he goes out and walks away. The governor sits down on a chair opposite the John and Mycroft.

"I'm sparing your blushes because we're supposed to be on the same side; and frankly, this is embarrassing."

"Ooh, doing a cavity search?"

"The true art of disguise, according to your famous friend, is not being looked at. But I am looking at you, aren't I, Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft looks across the table to him, still speaking in his south-west accent.

"Yes, you are."

John looks over at Mycroft.

"But that is sort of the point… isn't it?"

Mycroft stands up while John turns to the governor and I step forward.

"You should have been looking at the guy you just gave your pass too."

The governor turns to me surprised, before turning back to Mycroft who pulls off his hat and the white-haired wig and mustache along with the fake nose, I was able to make out of candle wax. The governor's smile drops as Mycroft grins down at him through his grubby false teeth and raises his eyebrows at him.

"That's the trouble with uniforms and name badges. People stop looking at faces. You'd be better off with clown outfits. At least they'd be satirically relevant."

"This is insane! This is unnecessary!"

I take off my jacket and beanie, sitting them on the table before emptying the sand out of my shoes. I'm so happy I was feeling too crappy for heels this morning.

"No, your security is compromised and we don't know who to trust."

"And that justifies dressing up?"

Mycroft turns and shouts, angrily.

"Yes, it does! It justifies dressing up or any damned thing I say it does. Now, listen to me: for your own physical safety do not speak, do not indulge in any non-verbal signals suggestive of internal thought. If the safety of my sister is compromised; if the security of my sister is compromised; if the incarceration of my sister is compromised – in short, if I find any indication my sister has left this island at any time, I swear to you, you will not. Say thank you to Doctor Watson and Madison."

"Why?"

"They talked me out of Lady Bracknell. This could have been very different."

Mycroft turns and puts his right hand to his ear.

"Are you in?"

I hear Sherlock answer through the earpiece I have in.

"Just arriving at the Secure Unit. Explain."

"A prison within a prison. Eurus must be allowed the strict minimum of human interaction."

"Why?"

"Since you're determined to meet her, you're about to find out."

Mycroft lowers his hand and turns to the governor.

"Answer yes or no. Has there ever been – against my express instructions – any attempt at a psychiatric evaluation of Eurus Holmes?"

"Yes."

"I presume the tapes are in my office?"

"Your office."

Mycroft walks to the doors and they open, before He, John, and I leave.

"Cast your mind back. It used to be yours."

We walk into a rather large office, with an entire wall made of glass. There is also a door on the back side of the officer, that is also mostly window, that leads to a balcony. Mycroft sits in a chair behind a desk in what must be the governor's office. John and I stand to the left of the chair and the governor is standing on the other side of the desk. The four of us are watching the footage on the screen attached to a wall at the side of the room. On it, we see Eurus in her cell.

"Why am I here?"

There is a faint man's voice offscreen.

"Why do you think you're here?"

"No-one ever tells me. Am I being punished?"

"You've been bad."

Eurus' voice changes to almost a singing tone

"There's no such thing as 'bad.'"

"What about good?"

"Good and bad are fairytales. We have evolved to attach an emotional significance to what is nothing more than the survival strategy of the pack animal. We are conditioned to invest divinity in utility. Good isn't really good, evil isn't really wrong, and bottoms aren't really pretty. You are a prisoner of your own meat."

"Why aren't you?"

Eurus raises her head and looking directly into the camera as she speaks the words slowly and clearly.

"I'm too clever."

Mycroft has slumped back in the chair and is no longer looking at the screen as the recording playback continues. John, on the other hand, has walked closer to the screen and is watching intensely. I am leaning against the desk, my palms on the desk, holding me up. As a new video begins.

"She smiles at you when you come home. Like a reflex."

The governor speaks over the video.

"Everyone we sent in there; it-it's hard to describe. It's ... it's like she …"

"Recruited them."

Mycroft interrupts him.

The video continues.

"Smiling is advertising. Smiling is happiness. Happiness is a pop song. Sadness is a poem."

The governor shakes his head.

"Enslaved them."

Mycroft nods.

"She's been capable of that since she was five. She's an adult now. I warned you; I ordered you."

The governor sighs and smiles a little.

"She's clinically unique. We had to try."

"At what cost? Tell me the worst thing that has happened."

"She kept suggesting to Doctor Taylor that he should kill his family."

"And?"

"He left."

"And?"

"Killed himself."

"And?" 

"... his family."

Eurus continues on the video.

"Are you going to cry? It's okay if you cry. I can help you cry."

"I don't need to cry."

Mycroft stands up and leans on the desk with both hands. John, his arms folded, has turned to look at the governor who has sat down at the other side, and I have moved so I am sitting on the edge of the desk. The footage of Eurus continues to play on the wall screen. Mycroft speaks in a very anger tone.

"I warned you explicitly: no-one was to talk to her alone."

"You spoke to her."

"I know what I'm doing!"

"You even brought her a visitor on Christmas Day."

"I took a calculated risk."

"You gave her a Christmas present. Remember her Christmas present?"

"I am aware of the dangers Eurus poses and equipped to deal with them."

John and I glance over to Mycroft.

"What dangers?"

"Eurus doesn't just talk to people. She ... reprograms them. Anyone who spends time with her is automatically compromised. I put my trust in you, my implicit trust. As governor of this institute…"

"It's obvious when it all started. Well, she was never the same after that Christmas. It's as if you woke her up."

"That is entirely beside the point! You had your orders and failed to act on them."

John walks closer to Mycroft.

"Listen to the tape."

"Sorry?"

"Do it now. Listen."

"My sister's methods of …"

"Just listen."

Looking exasperated, Mycroft walks to the desk and picks up a remote control, increasing the volume.

"I can fix her for you, and then I'll give you her straight back, good as new. I promise."

"That's all? What you're proposing is not ... it's not right."

I listen closely and hear what John had pointed out, it's the governor on the video.

"Everyone who went in there got affected – "enslaved," you said."

"Yes."

"One after the other."

"Yes."

Mycroft frowns.

"Madison, I think we've…"

John interrupts.

"Shut up."

Eurus continues on the video.

"Do you trust your wife?"

I take a deep breath.

"That's your voice. If Eurus has enslaved you, then who exactly is in charge of this prison?"

The governor quickly stands up and reaches into his inside breast pocket.

"I'm sorry."

He holds up a remote device in his hand.

"Very, very sorry."

John and I protest.

"No, No."

The governor presses a button on the remote. Immediately the siren starts to sound and armed guards run into the room, aiming their guns at us, as we raise our hands. The governor looks more composed as he buttons his jacket. Three yellow jumpsuited auxiliaries are marching John away, holding his arms. John kicks out at the ankle of the man to his right and as he cries out in pain and lets go of his arm, John turns to the other man and headbutts him. While Mycroft and I start to struggle against our own captors, John races for the nearby stairs up to the glass Control Room. A male American-accented voice calls loudly from the speaker system. It sounds more than a little familiar. It's Jim.

"Red alert! Red alert! Big bad bouncy red alert! Klingons attacking lower decks! Also, cowboys in black hats, and Darth Vader! Don't be alarmed! I'm here now! I'm here now! Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Miss me? Miss me? Miss me? Miss me? Miss me? Miss me?"

As John reaches the top landing, the screens on all the monitors go from static to a video of Jim repeating the same question over and over again. "Miss me?" As John stops and stares at the screens in disbelief, behind him lift doors open and two guards quietly hurry out. While Jim continues to repeat his refrain, one of them turns his rifle sideways and strikes John firmly in the back of the head with the butt. John's eyes glaze and he falls. As I continue to struggle against the guards holding me, one of the sticks me with a needle and everything goes black.


	43. The Governor

Chapter Forty-Three

The Governor

When I walk I sit up and look around the room. We are all in the rather large cell, Mycroft, John, Sherlock, the governor, and I. I look around and notice that it is the same cell Eurus had been in on the tapes we had been watching in the governor's office. On the left of the room, about halfway back, the governor is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Nearby, Mycroft is leaning back against a grey-paneled wall, the top button of his shirt undone above his slightly loosened tie. Sherlock is pacing but stops, turning to face me.

"Are you alright?"

I nod and look over to John, who is sitting a few feet away from me, to make sure that he is okay as well. He nods, to indicate he is fine before I stand. As I do I notice that I feel even more nauseous than I did this morning. It's probably just whatever they injected me with. Sherlock continues to pace back and forth in front of the glass.

"Did you see your sister?"

"Yes."

"How was that?"

"Family's always difficult."

Mycroft sighs.

"Is this an occasion for banter?"

Sherlock gestures toward his brother.

"Mm, case in point."

The sound of a phone ringing out can be heard. John stands up.

"Are we phoning someone?"

"Apparently."

John looks across the room to the governor.

"What's he doing here?"

"As he is told. Eurus is in control."

The phone connects and a young girl's distressed voice can be heard over the speakers. She is anxious and it sounds as though she's crying.

"Help me. Please, I'm on a plane and everyone's asleep. Help me!"

The lights in the cell go red and Jim's voice can be heard over the speakers.

"Hello. My name's Jim Moriarty. Welcome ... to the final problem. This is a recorded announcement."

Still holding the back of his head, John looks across to Sherlock. The lights turn white again.

"It's okay. He's dead."

I stand and walk over next to Sherlock.

"He doesn't sound dead."

Mycroft glances up, still leaning on the wall.

"Shouldn't you be happy about that?"

"My brother and I were never close."

Jim's voice continues on the speakers and the light in the cell turns red.

"Please say hullo to some very old friends of mine."

The girl calls out over the phone as the light turns white again.

"Hello? I can hear you talking. Please help me! I'm on a plane and it's going to crash!"

Mycroft sighs and shakes his head.

"What is this? We can't do this!"

Sherlock glances toward him.

"Do shut up, dear."

"Is this supposed to be a game?"

"Be quiet."

The little girl calls out again.

"Please help me!"

Sherlock and I glance toward each other and take a deep breath before we begin talking to the little girl.

"Oh, hello. Um, try-try to stay calm. Just te-tell me what your name is."

"I'm not supposed to tell my name to strangers."

I smile softly and shake my head. Oh, the bliss that telling her name to a stranger is one of her main concerns right now.

"Of course. Very good. But, um, we'll tell ours. My name is …"

There's a click and then static from the speakers.

"Hello?"

On a large TV screen, the image of pouring water briefly appears and then resolves to live footage of Eurus smiling into the camera.

"Oh dear. We seem to have lost the connection."

The screen is on a stand in front of the lift on the other side of the glass. Mycroft walks towards the glass.

"How have you done this? How is any of this possible?"

The smile fades from Eurus' face.

"You put me in here, Mycroft. You brought me my treats."

John walks closer to Mycroft.

"What treats?"

Mycroft turns his head towards him and presses his lips together a little. Sherlock frowns, then looks round at his brother, who turns and returns his gaze. Sitting in the chair behind the desk in the governor's office, Eurus raises a remote control and aims it towards the screens at the side of the room. She clicks a button and the lights in the cell turn red. Jim's face, in close-up, appears on the cell screen. The entire image is colored red.

"Clever Eurus! You go, girl!"

As the lights turn white again John turns to Sherlock and I.

"How can that be Moriarty?"

Before Sherlock or I can reply, Eurus' image appears on the screen again.

"Oh, he recorded lots of little messages for me before he died. Loved it. Did you know their brother is a station master? I think he was always jealous of him and I know he was jealous of you Maddie. Taking your brothers love, who would do such a thing."

Still sitting on the floor, the governor sinks his head back against the wall behind him. Sherlock takes a deep breath.

"The girl – where is she? Can we talk to her again?"

"Poor little thing. Alone in the sky in a great big plane with nowhere to land. But where in the world is she? It's a clever little puzzle. If you want to apply yourself to it, I can reconnect you; but first …"

She sits back in her chair and swings it around to face the side. Behind her, out on the balcony beyond the windows, a woman is sitting on a chair facing the room. Large solid handcuffs are attached either side of the seat and the woman's wrists are manacled at the other end of the cuffs. Wide dark grey gaffer tape is wrapped around her mouth and possibly her nose. She struggles against her restraints.

The governor gasps upon seeing the woman.

"That's my wife."

He scrambles to his feet and walks closer to the glass.

"That's my wife! Oh, God, that's my wife!"

He stares at the screen as Eurus turns her head to look into the camera.

"I'm going to shoot the governor's wife."

"Please, no."

He gestures vaguely towards Sherlock as if begging him, though he keeps his eyes on the screen.

"Please. Help her!"

Eurus looks away from the camera.

" in about a minute…"

She turns to the camera again while the woman struggles behind her.

"Bang! Dead!"

Sherlock stares forward at the screen.

"Please don't do that."

"Well, you can stop me."

"How?"

"There's a gun in the hatch. Take it."

Sherlocks walks over to the hatch at the side of the glass. It slides open as he approaches and he bends down and picks up the pistol from inside.

"You want to save the governor's wife? Choose either Doctor Watson, Madison, or Mycroft to kill the governor."

John turns away, a bitter smile on his face, while Mycroft lifts his head from where it had been resting on his hand, I place a hand over my mouth. The governor half-cries, half-gasps.

"Oh ... oh God!"

John turns back towards the screen, his face grim. Mycroft stares at Sherlock wide-eyed. Sherlock looks at the governor and takes a step towards him from behind.

"You can't do it, Sherlock. If you do it, it won't count. I'll kill her anyway. It has to be your brother, your girlfriend, or your friend."

The governor turns round to look at Mycroft.

"You have to do this. Eurus will kill her."

Still wide-eyed, Mycroft shakes his head. The governor turns to Sherlock. Sherlock looks down for a long moment, then releases the grip and tosses the gun a little into the air before catching it by the muzzle.

"Doesn't appear we have a choice."

He starts to walk across the cell.

"Right, then. Countdown starting."

Sherlock walks towards his brother, holding out the gun's grip towards him. Sherlock stops a few steps in front of Mycroft and gestures with the gun, urging him to take it.

"How long?"

"No, no, no. The countdown is for me."

The governor stares at Mycroft. The brothers' eyes are fixed on each other as Sherlock continues to hold the gun out. Nearby, John has his head lowered and his eyes screwed shut. As Eurus continues he unscrews his eyes and shakes his head.

"Withholding the precise deadline will apply the emotional pressure more evenly. Where possible, please give me an explicit verbal indication of your anxiety levels. I can't always read them from your behavior."

Sherlock turns his head towards the glass but doesn't look directly at the screen. Mycroft shakes his head.

"I can't do this. Can't. It's murder."

"This is not murder. This is saving my wife."

Mycroft looks across to him nervously, running his tongue along the inside of his lips. Eurus continues over the speakers.

"I'm particularly focussed on internal conflicts, where strategizing around a largely intuitive moral code appears to create a counter-intuitive result."

Mycroft stares down at the grip of the gun which Sherlock is still holding towards him.

"I will not kill. I will not have blood on my hands."

"Yes, very good. Thank you."

"Killing my wife is what you're doing."

Mycroft looks at Sherlock and then down to the gun one more time, then backs away, shaking his head.

"No."

Sherlock holds his gaze for a moment more, then lowers his eyes and turns away.

"Okay, fine. John."

He turns around and offers the gun to John. John is looking towards the governor or the screen beyond him but then opens his mouth a little, takes in a breath and turns his head to Sherlock. The governor stares at him, his eyes full of tears, and takes a step towards him.

"Doctor Watson. Are you married?"

"I was."

"What happened?"

"She died."

Sherlock lowers his eyes and presses his lips together. The governor walks towards John.

"What would you give to get her back? I mean, if you could, if it was possible? What would you do to save her? Eurus will kill me. Please save my wife."

"There will, I'm afraid, be regular prompts to create an atmosphere of urgency."

While Eurus speaks, the lights in the cell turn red and a close-up of Jim's red-lit face replaces hers on the screen. Manipulating his mouth over-exaggeratedly, he whispers loudly.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick …"

The lights turn white and Eurus is back on the screen. After a couple of seconds, the red lights are back and so is Jim.

"Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tock, tick-tock …"

White lights and Eurus return. Sherlock and the governor look towards John, the latter's expression desperate and pleading. John takes his hands from where he's been holding them behind his back and he shuffles on the spot, moving as if to put his hands into his jeans pockets. Not meeting his gaze, Sherlock lifts the gun higher towards him. Lowering his hands for a moment, John then reaches out and takes the pistol in his right hand. Mycroft turns away, covering his face with one hand. I step back and look down, as Sherlock steps to one side, his eyes fixed on John, who looks at the governor standing in front of him. John flexes the fingers on his left hand.

"What's your name?"

"David."

"And you're sure about this, David?"

"Course I'm bloody sure."

"Right. D'you want to ... pray, or anything?"

"With Eurus Holmes in the world, who the hell would I pray to?"

"You are a good man, and you are doing a good thing."

"So are you."

"I'll spend the rest of my life telling myself that."

David smiles anxiously, closing his eyes and pulling in a deep breath. John turns his head to look at Sherlock, who meets his gaze and lowers his chin slightly in affirmation that there is no other choice. John turns back and raises the pistol in front of him to point it at David. Sherlock steps back a little, putting his hands behind his back and Mycroft again turns away with his hand over his face. David can't help but jump and gasp, shutting his eyes for a moment. John looks at him, his face set, and his finger settles more firmly against the trigger. Mycroft has turned back a little and watches with his hand clamped against his mouth. John's gun hand lowers a little, then his face becomes more determined and he raises the gun to its former position. Crying, David raises one hand to stop him and then turns around, presenting his back to John. He backs towards him a little. John bends his arm and lifts the pistol upwards, clearly unhappy about shooting anyone in the back. He looks across to Sherlock who looks back at him silently, leaving him to make the choice. John turns back to David, hesitates for a moment and then steps forward and puts his left hand on his shoulder. David jumps, gasping. John pats his shoulder twice and David understands the message and gets down onto his knees, still facing away from him. As Mycroft turns away and covers his face again, John makes a decisive move and steps forward and presses the muzzle against the back of David's head. Again David jumps and then sobs quietly. John lifts the gun away, steps forward and leans down to put his hand on David's shoulder and his head close to his left ear.

"I know that you're scared, but you should also be very proud."

"Just do it."

John pats his shoulder and straightens up, stepping back and aiming the pistol down at him again. John adjusts his footing and lifts his left hand to hold the gun with both hands. The lights turn red and Jim appears on the screen, whispering, and tilting his head from side to side on the last three words.

"Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick."

The white lighting returns. John breathes out sharply through his nose. John's hands start to tremble on the gun. As Eurus speaks over the speaker.

"This is very good, Doctor Watson. I should have fitted you with a cardiograph."

David whimpers and the lights turn red. Jim whispers harshly on the screen.

"Tock-tock-tock-tock-tock-tock-tock tick-tick-tick."

The white lights return and David whines quietly. John screws his eyes shut for a moment, and his finger waves as he tries to apply pressure to the trigger. John's finger begins to tighten on the trigger. John lowers the gun and turns to Sherlock and I.

"I can't."

Weeping in anguish, David falls forward onto his hands. Sherlock steps towards John.

"I know. It's all right."

David scrambles to his feet and turns to us. Sherlock takes the gun from John and turns to me.

"Madison?"

I take a deep breath and nod, taking the gun from Sherlock.

"No… I can't."

At that moment, David rushes over to Sherlock snatching the pistol from his hand and raising it in front of himself with both shaking hands as he stumbles backward, crying.

"I'm sorry."

John, the Holmes brothers, and I back away towards the wall, Sherlock and John holding out placatory hands towards David.

"I'm so sorry."

He turns the pistol and pushes the tip of the muzzle under his chin.

"Remember me."

The four of us rush towards him but he pulls the trigger. They slow down and stop, John sighing out an anguished breath. As the bullet's shell clinks noisily to the floor, in the corner of the room rivulets of blood trickle down the glass wall. Mycroft turns away choking, bracing one hand against the wall and coughing against the other hand as he tries not to vomit. I turn and rush toward the metal toilet in the room and vomit. Sherlock walks over and places a hand on my back.

"Are you all right?"

I lift my head and sit on the floor, taking a few deep breaths. I nod as Eurus calls out over the speakers.

"Interesting."

Sherlock turns and walks towards the glass. David's body is slumped in the left corner near the hatch, the pistol lying near his right hand.

"All right, there you go. You got what you wanted… and he's dead."

"Dead or alive… he really wasn't very interesting, but you four… you four were wonderful. Thank you. You see, what you did, Doctor Watson, specifically because of your moral code... because you don't want blood on your hands, two people are dead instead of one."

John raises his head to look at her.

"Two people?"

"Yes. Sorry, hang on."

Eurus rotates the chair so that she's facing the window. The woman on the balcony is obscured from the men's view. Eurus lifts a pistol high so that they can see the muzzle above the back of the chair, then lowers it and there's a gunshot. John raises both hands to his head and backs away in frustration.

"Oh!"

Mycroft gasps and also turns away, sighing. I place a hand over my mouth, still sitting on the floor.

"What advantage did your moral code grant you? Is it not, in the end, selfish to keep one's hands clean at the expense of another's life?"

Sherlock looks dispassionate as he watches the screen. Behind him, John has both hands clasped behind his head and is breathing heavily. Sherlock briefly presses his lips together. John lowers his hands and takes a few paces towards the screen, shouting angrily towards it.

"You didn't have to kill her!"

Eurus chuckles and turns more towards the camera.

"The condition of her survival was that you, Madison, or Mycroft had to kill her husband. This is an experiment. There will be rigor. Sherlock, pick up the gun. It's your turn next. When I tell you to use it – and I will – remember what happened this time."

Sherlock hasn't moved from the corner once he had left me, looking down at the pistol.

"What if I don't want a gun?"

"Oh, the gun is intended as a mercy."

"For whom?" 

"You."

"How so?"

"If someone else had to die, would you really want to do it with your bare hands? It would waste valuable time."

Sherlock turns to face and looks at John. Mycroft stares at him, still wide-eyed, as I stand, wiping my mouth. John gazes beyond Sherlock towards the screen.

"Probably just take it."

John looks down. Sherlock bends down and picks up the gun, before stepping into the middle of the cell. He takes out the clip and checks it, then slots it back into the grip and looks up to the screen.

"There's only one bullet left."

"You will only need one. But you will need it."

On the left wall, the second panel away from the glass slides to one side, revealing a narrow passageway.

"Please, go through. There's a few tasks for you, and a girl on a plane is getting very, very scared."

Sherlock turns and walks towards the opening, then stops in the entrance and turns back to face his brother.

"Treats?"

"Yes. You know, a violin."

"In exchange for ...?"

"She's very clever."

"I'm beginning to think you're not."

The lights turn red as Mycroft lowers his eyes, and Jim's voice sounds cheerfully over the speakers.

"Come on now! Aaaaaall aboard! Choo-choo! Choo-c"

I walk up next to Sherlock and he looks over to me, taking a box of mints out of his pocket and handing it to me.

"Thank you."

Sherlock nods and turns, walking into the corridor, John and I follow him. Mycroft follows the three of us.


	44. Garrideb

Chapter Forty-Four

Garrideb

Sherlock and I walk along a narrow grey-walled corridor and turn into a room which is much smaller than the cell. Although also grey in colour, the walls have been messily daubed with red paint so that it looks like they're heavily covered with blood. He and I look around as we walks deeper into the room, John and Mycroft following us.

"Someone's been redecorating."

"It that allowed?"

"She's literally taken over the asylum. We have more to worry about than her choice of colour scheme."

As I look around the room, I notice there is another screen on the back wall.

"Shall we play a game?"

I turn and see an almost disapproving look on John's face.

"What? You know that's how I process things like this."

The room is about twenty feet wide. At the far end is a large window, made up of three panes of glass, looking out over the sea. A small glass table is a few feet from the window and there is an envelope on it. Mycroft runs his fingers over the paint on part of the wall.

"Barely dry. Recent."

Sherlock nods as he looks over the envelope, as I step over to him and look over his shoulder.

"It's for our benefit."

Behind us, the door we come through had slid shut. That door being at the left of the back of the room and there is another one at the right-hand side. On the wall between the doors, the large screen now activates and Eurus appears on it.

"As a motivator to your continued cooperation, I'm now reconnecting you."

She lifts the remote control into view and clicks it. Jim's voice comes over the speaker, speaking in a phony American accent, and his red-hued image appears on the screen.

"Fasten your seatbelts! It's gonna be a bumpy night."

There's a brief screech of static and then the little girl we had been on the phone with before calls out.

"Are-are you still there?"

I step toward the center of the room.

"Yes, hello?"

She doesn't respond, so Sherlock calls out to her.

"Hello. We're still here. Can you hear us?"

The little girl answers as she continues to sound scared and tearful whenever she speaks.

"Yes."

I nod and glance over at Sherlock.

"Everything's gonna be alright. I just need you to tell me where you are, alright sweetheart. Outside, is it day or night?"

"Night."

Mycroft folds his arms.

"That certainly narrows it down to half the planet."

Sherlock glances towards him as he speaks to the girl.

"What kind of a plane are you on?"

"Um, I don't know."

John nods his head and takes a breath.

"Is it big or small?"

"Big."

"Lots of people?" 

"Lots and lots, but they're all asleep. I can't wake them up."

Sherlock glances over at John.

"Where did you take off from?"

"Even the driver's asleep."

I put a hand up to Sherlock.

"That's alright darling, but we need to know where the plane took off from?"

"My nan's."

"Where are you doing?"

"Home."

"Do you know what town you…"

There's a click as he speaks, and Eurus' image reappears on the screen at the end of the room. She's almost singing as she talks.

"Enough for now. Time to play a new game. Look on the table in front of you. Open the envelope! If you want to speak to the girl again, earn yourself some phone time!"

Sherlock and John move to either side of the glass table. Mycroft stands a few feet away with his arms still folded. I stay in the middle of the room, turning my back to the screen. Mycroft protests.

"This is inhuman; this is insane!"

John turns to him, speaking firmly.

"Mycroft, we know." 

Mycroft lowers his eyes, looking exasperated. Sherlock has opened the envelope and taken out the contents as I walk over to him and John. Sherlock starts laying three glossy photographs side by side on the table. As Eurus continues to speak, a bright light comes on at the end of a beam above our heads. We look up and sees a hunting rifle resting in a rack which has been attached to the side of the beam.

"Six months ago, a man called Evans was murdered; unsolved except by me. He was shot from a distance of three hundred meters with this rifle. Now, if the police had any brains they'd realize there are three suspects, all brothers. Nathan Garrideb, Alex Garrideb, and Howard Garrideb. All these photos are up-to-date, but which one pulled the trigger, Sherlock? Which one?"

I look down at the photos as Sherlock turns and steps away, each one is of a different man. The first, wearing grey trousers, a blue shirt, a brown corduroy jacket, and glasses, is in an outdoor car park and the word "NATHAN" has been written on the picture; the second man, wearing a dark blue suit, is standing talking on his phone, perhaps in an office environment, and the photo is labelled "ALEX"; and the third man, wearing a white T-shirt and black jumper with a dark jacket and trousers, is walking near rocky cliffs and his picture is labelled "HOWARD". Above the three photos the envelope, laid face-up, has the word "EVANS" written on it.

John turns toward the screen as well, still standing next to me.

"What's this? W-we're supposed to solve this based on what?"

Sherlock turns back and looks to the photos again, as I move them to the table in the middle of the room when I turn around I notice Sherlock has taken the rifle down and is looking it over.

"This. This is all we get."

"Please, make use of your friends, Sherlock. I want to see you interact with people that you're close to. Also, you may have to choose which one to keep."

John frowns and glances towards Mycroft. Sherlock turns and holds out the rifle in both hands, looking at his brother. We see that it's not a modern rifle and much of it is made of dark wood. A telescopic sight is attached to the top.

"What do you make of it?"

Mycroft scoffs.

"Am I being asked to prove my usefulness?"

"Yes, I should think you are."

"I will not be manipulated like this."

"Fine. John?"

Sherlock turns to John, offering him and rifle. Mycroft bites his lip and turns his head away.

"John?"

John has been looking at Mycroft but now turns and takes the rifle. He raises the rifle and aims it towards the floor at the other end of the room, looking into the telescopic sight.

"Yeah, I think I've seen one of these. It's a buffalo gun. I'd say the nineteen forties, old-fashioned sight, no crosshairs."

Sherlock takes back the rifle as I look down at the photos again.

"Nathan wears glasses. Evans was shot from three hundred meters. Kickback from a gun with that caliber would be massive. Look, no cuts, no scarring on Nathan's face, it wasn't him."

Sherlock nods as I turn over the photo.

"Who's next?"

We turn our attention to the other photos as Mycroft speaks rather sarcastically.

"Well done, you two. How useful you are. Do you have a suspicion we're being made to compete?"

John steps towards him.

"No, we're not competing. There's a plane in the air that's gonna crash, so what we're doing is actually trying to save a little girl. Today we have to be soldiers, Mycroft, soldiers… and that means to hell with what happens to us."

John lowers his voice on that last part. As John walks away towards the other end of the table. Mycroft raises his eyebrows briefly, speaking rather genuinely now.

"Your priorities do you credit."

John turns to him and speaks in a rather angry tone.

" No, my priorities just got a woman killed."

I sigh softly and place a hand on John's shoulder, stepping toward him.

"It wasn't just you John. None of us could do it."

Eurus' voice comes onto the speakers again.

"Now, as I understand it, Sherlock, you try to repress your emotions to refine your reasoning. I'd like to see how that works, so, if you don't mind, I'm going to apply some context to your deductions."

There's a noise from behind us and we turn to look. Outside the window three men drop into view, each suspended from a rope attached to a harness. The ropes tighten and the men are left dangling in mid-air, each behind one of the three panes of glass. Their hands are bound in front of them with rope and white scarves are tied around their mouths. Each man has a large card hung around his neck with string. The cards flutter in the wind as the men struggle against their bonds. I gasp loudly and cover my mouth.

"Oh, dear God!"

"Two of the Garridebs work here as orderlies, so getting the third along really wasn't too difficult. Once you bring in your verdict, let me know and justice will be done."

As we step towards the window I notice that the signs around the struggling men's necks have their names on them. Sherlock turns his body halfway to the screen.

"Justice?"

John looks down, shaking his head, almost afraid of the answer to his question.

"What will you do with them?"

"Early release."

Sherlock steps closer to the window and his eyes lower towards the water below the men. He turns away from the window.

"You'll drop them into the sea."

"Sink, or swim."

John turns to the screen, speaking angrily.

"They're tied up!"

"Exactly! Now there is context. Please, continue with your deductions. I'm now focussing on the difference in your mental capacity a specified consequence can make."

Upon hearing her last comment and hearing how she loudly clicks the 'K' on the last word I can't help but think, 'She's a Holmes, alright.' Sherlock lays the rifle on the table and bends to the photos, resting his hands on the glass at either side. Mycroft speaks toward Sherlock.

"Why should we bother? What if we're disinclined to play your games, little sister?"

John and I glance back to the three men outside the window. Eurus chuckles, not very humorously.

"I have – if you remember – provided you with some motivation."

There's a click on the speaker and the little girl calls out.

"We're going through the clouds, like cotton wool."

Mycroft clasps his hands behind his head, lowering it in frustration. Sherlock, who had been bent over the table looking closely at the photographs, straightens up and closes his eyes as he speaks.

"Oh. That's nice. Try to tell me more about the plane. "

"Why won't my mummy wake up?"

The speaker clicks again. The image of water has been pouring down the screen at the end of the room but now Eurus reappears. Sherlock lowers his head and moves his fingers across the photographs on the table, as I walk over to him.

"So it's got to be one of the other two."

I nod and speak softly, trying to focus his mind.

"Focus on Howard first."

He turns and looks at the men outside the window before he walks closer and stares at the man on the left who has that name card around his neck.

"Howard's a lifelong drunk. Pallor of his skin, terminal gin blossoms on his red nose ... and – terror notwithstanding – a bad case of the DTs."

"So there's no way he could have taken that shot from three hundred meters away."

I step up the last man, Alex.

"So that leaves us with Alex. Indentations on the temples suggest he habitually wears glasses. Frown lines suggest a lifetime of peering."

Mycroft nods, stepping to one side of me.

"He's short-sighted, or he was. His recent laser surgery has done the trick."

Sherlock takes the spot on my other side.

"Laser surgery?"

I nod.

"Look at his clothes. He's made an effort."

I can hear John in awe behind us.

"That's very good."

Sherlock speaks softly and intensely.

"Excellent. Suddenly he sees himself in quite a different light now that he's dumped the specs. Even has a spray tan."

I nod.

"But he's clearly not used to his new personal grooming ritual. That can be told by the state of his fingernails and the fact that there's hair growing in his ears."

"So it's a superficial job, then."

"But he got his eyes fixed. His hands would have been steady."

Sherlock turns to the screen, pointing back towards Alex.

"He killed Evans."

Mycroft and I turn as well, as Eurus replies calmly.

"Are you ready to condemn the prisoner?"

Mycroft sighs.

"Sherlock, we can't do this."

I look up over to him.

"The plane, remember?"

Eurus speaks more firmly.

"Sherlock? Are you ready?"

Sherlock turns his head a little. John turns to look at him. Sherlock bites his lip for a moment, then speaks softly.

"Alex."

"Say it. Condemn him. Condemn him in the knowledge of what will happen to the man you name."

Sherlock turns to face the window, looking into Alex's face. He pauses for a long moment, before speaking quietly but determined.

"I condemn Alex Garrideb."

Instantly the ropes holding the other two men release and they plunge downwards out of sight. We look out the window shocked as we hear Jim's voice.

"Mind the gap."

Sherlock closes his eyes briefly, and all four of us turn towards the screen.

"Congratulations. You got the right one. Now, go through the door."

As Sherlock walks slowly towards the screen, Eurus tilts her head towards the door to the right of the screen, which starts to slide open. John walks towards the screen, his voice quiet, but angry.

"You dropped the other two. Why?"

Eurus looks at the curiously towards the camera.

"Interesting."

John speaks furiously and loudly.

"WHY?"

"Does it really make a difference, killing the innocent instead of the guilty? Let's see."

We turn back to the window just as Alex's rope releases and he plunges downwards. Jim's voice can be heard and his red-lit face appears on the screen briefly.

"The train has left the station!"

"No. That felt pretty much the same."

Sherlock had been walking towards the open doorway but has turned back and walks to stand behind John who is staring towards the window, his teeth bared, breathing heavily.

"John."

John turns to him, breathing harshly through his nose.

"Don't let her distract you."

"Distract me?"

"Soldiers today."

John looks at him for a couple of seconds, then straightens to his full height. Captain Watson is back in the room. Sherlock glances across to his brother who still looks disturbed by the whole business. When he turns toward me, I take a deep breath and nod. Sherlock turns and leads the others to the door. Mycroft walks slowly, sighing and rubbing one hand tiredly over his forehead.


	45. Molly Hooper

Chapter Forty-Five

Molly Hooper

Further along a narrow corridor another door slides open and Sherlock and I walk through the doorway, Sherlock holding the pistol in both hands lowered towards the floor while the other two follow us. We're in a small room with black walls and floor and no window and the room is only dimly lit. Unlike the previous one, there's no red paint on the walls. A wall screen is currently showing only pouring water. In the middle of the room resting on two trestles is a light brown wooden coffin with brass handles and no lid. Light shines down onto it. Sherlock and I walk across and looks down into the coffin, then he and I raises our heads to look for the light source. There's a narrow open chimney in the middle of the ceiling from which daylight is coming. The lid of the coffin is propped up against the far wall, its underside facing the room, the speakers click and Eurus' voice is heard.

"One more minute on the phone."

The speakers squeal momentarily and then the little girl's voice comes from them.

"Frightened. I'm really frightened."

I speak up, calmly.

"It's okay, don't worry. We don't have very long with you, so I just need you to tell me what you can see outside the plane."

"Just the sea. I can see the sea."

"Are there ships on it?"

"No ships. I can see lights in the distance."

Sherlock sighs.

"Is it a city?"

"I think so."

Sherlock turns and looks at John who is standing at the side of the coffin. Mycroft, standing at the other side, speaks quietly.

"She's about to fly over a city in a pilotless plane. We'll have to talk her through it."

"Through what?"

The little girl speaks up again.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

Sherlock nods.

"Still here. Just give us a minute."

Mycroft speaks quietly so the girl can't hear him.

"Getting the plane away from any mainland, any populated areas. It has to crash in the sea."

John looks at him as if he can't believe what he's saying.

"What about the girl?"

Mycroft speaks in a firm whisper.

"Well, obviously, Doctor Watson, she's the one who's going to crash it."

"No, we could help her land it."

"And if we fail, and she crashes into a city? How many will die then?"

"How are we gonna get her to do that?"

"I'm afraid we're going to have to give her hope."

I speak loudly so the girl can hear.

"Is there really no-one there that can help you? Have you really, really checked?"

"Everyone's asleep. Will you help me?"

"We're going to do everything that we can."

"I'm scared. I'm really scared."

"It's all right. I ..."

I stop when there's a click on the speakers. Eurus comes back onto the screen in front of us.

"Now, back to the matter in hand. Coffin. Problem: someone is about to die. It will be – as I understand it – a tragedy. So many days not lived, so many words unsaid. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

Sherlock sighs and speaks exasperated.

"Yes, yes, yes, and this – I presume – will be their coffin."

"Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment."

Sherlock has been pacing around but now he turns towards the head of the coffin again and blows out a noisy breath.

"Well, allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I'd say this coffin is intended for someone of about five foot four. Makes it more likely to be a woman."

John looks at us confused.

"Not a child?"

I shake my head.

"A child's coffin would be more expensive. This is in the lower price range, although still best available in that bracket. This is a practical and informed choice. The balance of probability suggests that this is for an unmarried woman distant from her close relatives. That much is suggested by the economy of choice."

As I speak Mycroft has moved across the room, frowned in the direction of the coffin lid propped up against the wall and walking across to pick it up and turn it to look at the top side.

Sherlock shakes his head, still focused on the coffin itself.

"Acquainted with the process of death but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. Also, the lining of the coffin ..."

Mycroft clears his throat, interrupting Sherlock.

"Yes, very good, Sherlock, or we could just look at the name on the lid. Only it isn't a name."

He turns it towards us. When he sees what it says, Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes. His face appears reflected in the brass plate which is attached to the lid. Sherlock turns away. The brass plate on the lid reads,

I LOVE YOU.

John looks between the three of us.

"So, it's for somebody who loves somebody."

I shake my head.

"It's for somebody who loves Sherlock. This is all about you. Everything here."

Sherlock walks slowly back to the coffin and puts his hands on top of it at the head end, as Mycroft looks to his little brother.

"So who loves you? I'm assuming it's not a long list."

Sherlock gazes intensely into the coffin. John walks over to his side while Mycroft leans the lid against the wall.

"Madison?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Look at the coffin. Unmarried, practical about death, alone."

John's eyes widen a little as he looks towards me. When our eyes met I realize who the coffins for.

"Molly..."

Sherlock nods.

"Molly Hooper."

On the screen, Eurus leans forward.

"She's perfectly safe, for the moment. Her flat is rigged to explode in approximately three minutes... unless I hear the release code from her lips. I'm calling her on your phone, Sherlock. Make her say it."

The screen switches to four images from camera footage of the interior of a home. In the top right-hand corner, a countdown clock appears, currently fixed at 03:00. Sherlock stares at the screen and walks towards it. Mycroft rolls his head back in frustration. John and I shake our heads before I hear John call out.

"Say what?"

Sherlock presses his lips together and closes his eyes, lowering his head. Apparently, he already knows.

"Obvious, surely?"

John shakes his head.

"No."

Sherlock and I speak simultaneously.

"Yes."

Sherlock turns to look at the coffin lid, now leaning against the wall with the top facing them. The other three of us turn to follow his gaze and we all focus in on the words on the brass plaque. Eurus speaks as Sherlock turns around again.

" Oh, one important restriction: you're not allowed to mention in any way at all that her life is in danger. You may not – at any point – suggest that there is any form of crisis. If you do, I will end this session and her life. Are we clear?"

Sherlock has pressed his lips together again, nodding and the multiple tones of a speed dial ringing out can be heard. At the same time, the clock on the screen begins its countdown. Jim's voice comes from the speakers.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock."

The phone connects and starts ringing out. Molly's in her kitchen, standing with her elbows on the front of her sink and her head in her hands. Her phone brings to ring on the worktop behind her and she straightens up to turn and look at it. Sherlock shifts his footing and frowns at the screen. In her flat Molly walks slowly across to the work surface. It's clear that she has been crying. Glancing towards the phone lying nearby, she picks up an orange from the chopping board in front of her and starts to cut a slice from it. There is a large teacup beside the board. Sherlock frowns as the phone continues to ring.

"What's she doing?"

"She's making tea."

Sherlock looks around to him. The countdown reaches 02:39.

"Yes, but why isn't she answering her phone? "

John sighs.

"You never answer your phone."

"Yes, but it's me calling."

Taking a jar from the cupboard and closing the door again, Molly looks across to her ringing phone as she starts to take off the lid. The countdown clock reaches 02:27 as her phone goes to voicemail.

"Hi, this is Molly, at the dead center of town. Leave a message."

The buzzing from a phone suggests that Eurus has terminated the call. Sherlock runs his hand over his mouth.

"Okay, okay. Just one more time."

The speed dial can be heard dialing out. Sherlock draws in a long breath through his nose as Molly's phone starts to ring again. The countdown is at 02:12. John shuffles on the spot, staring intensely at the screen.

"Come on, Molly, pick up. Just bloody pickup."

Now squeezing the juice from the slice of orange into the teacup, Molly looks across to her phone. After a moment, looking exasperated, she dumps the orange down onto the chopping board, picks up a tea towel and wipes her fingers on it and then, sniffing, walks over to the phone. Seeing that the caller is again identified as Sherlock, her hand hesitates momentarily as she reaches for the phone but then she picks it up. She holds it in front of her, looking at the screen. Sherlock is holding the pistol in both hands and has lowered his forehead onto the top of it. He lifts his head when Molly finally answers.

"Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent, 'cause I'm not having a good day."

"Molly, I just want you to do something very easy for me, and not ask why."

Molly sighs in exasperation.

"Oh, God. Is this one of your stupid games?

"No, it's not a game. I ... need you to help me."

"Look, I'm not at the lab."

"It's not about that."

Molly moves back at the other end of the worktop and fiddling with the stuff on the counter.

"Well, quickly, then."

Sherlock blinks rapidly biting his lips.

"Sherlock? What is it? What do you want?"

The lights in the room turn red and Jim's face appears on the screen, moving his mouth over-exaggeratedly as he whispers harshly.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock."

The lights turn white again and presumably the footage of the flat reappears on the screen.

"Molly, please, without asking why just say these words."

Molly smiles a little.

"What words?"

"I love you."

Molly's smile drops and she takes the phone from her ear. Sniffing, she looks down at the screen and moves her thumb towards it ready to terminate the call.

"Leave me alone."

Sherlock gestures frantically towards the screen, speaking loudly.

"Molly, no, please, no, don't hang up! Do not hang up!"

Eurus speaks over the speakers.

"Calmly, Sherlock or I will finish her right now."

The countdown clock ticks down to 01:08. Molly has raised the phone to her ear again.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making fun of me?"

Sherlock speaks softly.

"Please, I swear, you just have to listen to me."

"Softer, Sherlock!"

Sherlock glances towards the speaker, then looks at the screen again. He raises his tone to sound a little more friendly.

"Molly, this is for a case. It's ... it's a sort of experiment."

"I'm not an experiment, Sherlock."

"No, I know you're not an experiment. You're my friend. We're friends. But ... please. Just ... say those words for me."

Molly's face is full of pain.

"Please don't do this. Just ... just ... don't do it."

Sherlock forces a smile into his voice.

"It's very important. I can't say why, but I promise you it is."

"I can't say that. I can't ... I can't say that to you."

Still smiling to make his voice sound friendly.

"Of course you can. Why can't you?"

"You know why."

Sherlock's smile drops in his puzzlement.

"No, I don't know why."

Molly sighs heavily, sniffs and wipes a hand across her nose.

"Of course you do."

The lights turn red and the red-hued image of Jim appears on the screen. Sherlock lowers his head.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tick-tick-tick ..."

The lights turn white again. Sherlock raises his head.

"Please, just say it"

"I can't. Not to you."

"Why?"

Molly voice breaks.

"Because... because it's true... Because ... it's ... true, Sherlock. It's always been true."

Molly begins crying, weeping as her voice drops to a whisper by the end. The three of us drop our heads as Sherlock straightens himself up.

"Well, if it's true, just say it anyway."

Molly laughs in disbelief and heaves a heavy sigh.

"You bastard."

"Say it anyway."

"You say it. Go on. You say it first."

"What?"

"Say it. Say it like you mean it. Say it like you do it to Madison."

The countdown on the screen drops from 00:31 and continues downwards. Mycroft, his head raised again, opens his mouth but can't find the words. He shakes his head and half steps forward, breathing out loudly. Sherlock turns from the screen to face me, his eyes closed. He takes a breath, summoning the strength to say the words.

"I..."

Molly has her eyes closed against her tears. She brings up her free hand to the side of her face where she's holding the phone. Opening her eyes for a moment, she shuts them again and moves her free hand around to cup the one which is holding the phone to her ear. Sherlock has his head lowered but then raises it.

"I love you."

He opens his eyes and looks towards the screen. Molly sighs softly and smiles a little, bringing the thumb of her top hand round to press it against her mouth. Sherlock takes a deep breath, whispering softly again.

"I love you."

Molly closes her eyes again for a moment and then brings the phone round to look at its screen. Sherlock looks at the wall screen anxiously, perhaps worried that she's going to hang up.

"Molly?"

The countdown reaches 00.13. Molly brings her hand round towards the screen. It looks as if she is about to hang up as she lifts the phone closer to her mouth. Sherlock turns back to the screen his expression frantic.

"Molly please."

Gazing into the distance and holding the phone in both hands, Molly rubs a finger across her mouth. John stares towards the screen in dread. He is trembling slightly. Mycroft takes another step towards the screen, his eyes wide and his mouth open as he breathes heavily. Molly takes her finger from her mouth and takes in a breath. With her mouth almost touching the phone, she speaks softly.

"I love you."

Sherlock gasps and rears back from the screen as the countdown clock beeps several times to signify that it has stopped. Both John and Mycroft heave out noisy sighs of relief. Sherlock also sighs and buries his head in both hands, bending forward. I place my hands on my face, sighing a sigh of relief. In her kitchen, Molly closes her eyes. The countdown has stopped at 00:02. One of the cameras in the kitchen shows Molly putting the phone down and raising both hands to her mouth. Sherlock lifts his head and straightens up, sighing out loudly and looking exhausted. Mycroft walks towards him.

"Sherlock, however hard that was..."

Sherlock shakes his head, looking towards the camera on the wall.

"Eurus, I won. I won."

She doesn't say anything.

"Come on, play fair. The girl on the plane: I need to talk to her. I won. I saved Molly Hooper."

Eurus makes a disparaging sound and reappears on the screen in front of us. For the first time, she seems to be showing some emotion, whether she's genuinely feeling any emotion is anyone's guess at this moment.

"Saved her? From what? Oh, do be sensible. There were no explosives in her little house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didn't win. You lost. All those complicated little emotions. I lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock. It destroys you every time. In your own time."

One of the doors slides open. Mycroft turns to look at it. The screen turns to the pouring water. Sherlock picks up the lid and turns and walks towards the coffin while Mycroft, John, and I head for the open door. Sherlock puts the lid into place on top of the coffin while we turn to watch him. He rests his hand on the top and slowly draws his hand across towards him, his eyes lowered as he breathes out what is almost a quiet sob. I take a small step towards him.

"Sherlock?"

"No. No."

Pulling his hand across the top of the lid, Sherlock turns towards the coffin, lifting his other hand to unbutton his jacket. His face starts to twist with rage and he pulls back his right arm and smashes it with all his strength down onto the lid, shattering it. He draws back his hand and then slams both fists down onto the lid again and again, then seizes the side of the coffin and lifts the whole thing before smashing it down repeatedly on top of the trestles, disintegrating the box into pieces while he cries out over and over again in rage, grief, and frustration. Eventually, he lets out a long anguished scream.

After giving him a few minutes, Once he has destroyed the box, John walks across the room, avoiding all the splintered wood lying around, and bends down to pick up the pistol from the floor. Straightening up, he clears his throat softly and walks across to where Sherlock is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. His legs are bent up in front of him and his wrists rest on the tops of his knees. His head is lowered and he is staring at the floor in front of him, breathing heavily with a distressed look on his face. Mycroft is standing and watching them from just outside the open door and the nearby screen is still showing pouring water. John stops a few paces in front of his friend.

"Look, I know this is difficult and I know you're being tortured, but you have got to keep it together."

Sherlock doesn't lift his head.

"This isn't torture; this is vivisection. We're experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats."

He breathes out loudly and raises his head to rest it against the wall behind him and gazes upwards. Mycroft watches nearby, looking concerned. Sherlock glances in his direction without turning his head then swallows and looks up at John.

"Soldiers?"

John nods.

"Soldiers."

John bends down and holds out his right hand to Sherlock, who takes it with his own right hand. John pulls him to his feet. Sherlock buttons his jacket and John blows out a breath as they walk side-by-side to the doorway, John holding out the pistol and Sherlock taking it as they go. Just as they reach the doorway the lights turn red and Jim's voice comes over the speakers.

"Tick-tock, tickets please!"


	46. Now What?

Chapter Forty-Six

Now What?

This time there's no corridor and the doorway leads directly into another grey-walled room. The lights in both rooms turn white again. Sherlock's eyes flick around the new room. Again there's no window and each of the four walls has a screen against it – although these are on stands – currently showing pouring water. There is nothing else in the room. The floor is mostly grey apart from a large white panel in the center.

"Hey, sis, don't mean to complain but this one's empty. What happened? Did you run out of ideas?"

The screens flicker on and show Eurus still sitting in the governor's office.

"It's not empty, Sherlock. You've still got the gun, haven't you? I told you you'd need it because only two can play the next game. Just two of you go on from here; your choice. It's make-your-mind-up time. Whose help do you need the most – John or Mycroft?"

Mycroft frowns round at John, who sighs and turns away.

"It's an elimination round. You choose one and kill the other. You have to choose, family or friend. Mycroft or John Watson?"

Sherlock turns round to face us. The lights turn red and Jim appears on the screens, tilting his head from one side to the other as he whispers loudly through his teeth.

"Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick."

Mycroft steps forward and shouts.

"Eurus, enough!"

The lights turn white and she's back on the screen.

"Not yet, I think. But nearly. Remember, there's a plane in the sky, and it's not going to land."

Mycroft rubs his hands over his face and then lowers them and steps forward towards Sherlock.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"We're not actually going to discuss this, are we?"

Mycroft turns his head towards John.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Watson. You're a fine man in many respects. Make your goodbyes and shoot him."

He looks at his brother for a couple of seconds, then points towards John and raises his voice.

"Shoot him!"

"What?"

Mycroft glances at him for a brief moment and then turns back to his brother.

"Shoot Doctor Watson. There's no question who has to continue from here. It's us; you and me. Whatever lies ahead requires brainpower, Sherlock, not sentiment. Don't prolong his agony; shoot him."

"Do I get a say in this?"

"Today, we are soldiers. Soldiers die for their country. I regret, Doctor Watson, that privilege is now yours."

I step forward.

"Wait, we don't need to do this!"

John sighs and shakes his head.

"Shit. He's right. He is, in fact, right."

Mycroft looks at John but speaks to Sherlock.

"Make it swift. No need to prolong his agony. Get it over with ... and we can get to work."

John shifts on the spot and straightens up, bracing himself. Sherlock lowers his head and half-turns away. Mycroft scoffs at the sight, then starts to chuckle sarcastically.

"God! I should have expected this. Pathetic. You always were the slow one … the idiot. That's why I've always despised you. You shame us all. You shame the family name. Now, for once in your life, do the right thing. Put this stupid little man out of all our misery. Shoot him!"

Sherlock speaks quickly.

"Stop it."

"Look at him. What is he? Nothing more than a distraction; a little scrap of ordinariness for you to impress, to dazzle with your cleverness. You'll find another. You already have another, don't you? You can lose one of them."

Sherlock shakes his head, still not looking at Mycroft. His voice low as he speaks.

"Please, for God's sake, just stop it."

"Why?"

Mycroft blinks and lifts his head, looking a little disappointed. Sherlock turns his head towards John but doesn't look at him.

"Because, on balance, even your Lady Bracknell was more convincing. Ignore everything he just said. He's being kind. He's trying to make it easy for me to kill him."

Sherlock looks towards John, but John has already turned his head to Mycroft. Offscreen, Mycroft has apparently reached up to smooth his hair a little but now lowers his hand and smiles ruefully at his brother.

"Which is why this is going to be so much harder."

Sherlock turns to face Mycroft and raises the gun, pointing it at him. On the screen behind him, Eurus shows a trace of emotion for the first time, her eyes widening and her mouth opens a little. Mycroft smiles at him.

"You said you liked my Lady Bracknell."

I whisper softly.

"Sherlock, don't."

"It's not your decision. Not in the face, though, please. I've promised my brain to the Royal Society."

"Where would you suggest?"

"Well ... I suppose there is a heart somewhere inside me. I don't imagine it's much of a target but … why don't we try for that?"

John walks to his side and holds out a hand towards Sherlock.

"I won't allow this."

I place a hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"I won't either."

Sherlock shakes his head, looking at me over his shoulder.

"Wait, why just John and Mycroft? Why not between the three of them?"

The four of us turn to the screen, on which Eurus is smiling.

"Well, I wouldn't want to hurt my unborn Niece of Nephew, now would I?"

I feel the blood drain from my face as Sherlock and I look to each other, as I place my hands on my stomach. When I turn back to John and Mycroft they looked equally shocked. It all makes sense, the cramps, the fact I've felt shitty for a week or so, getting sick and feeling nauseous in situations I normally wouldn't feel even a queasy about. Mycroft clears his throat as he adjusts his tie.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry I won't ever met the little fellow. This is my fault so on we go, Sherlock."

I look up to Mycroft, my attention had been on my stomach.

"What do you mean."

"Her Christmas treat five minutes' conversation with Jim Moriarty five years ago."

Sherlock turns his attention for me to Mycroft.

"What did they discuss?"

Mycroft sighs.

"Five minutes' conversation… unsupervised."

John's mouth opens and he stumbles back a step. Mycroft looks down ruefully. As John continues to back away, Sherlock sighs softly and raises the pistol again. Mycroft straightens up and looks at him.

"Goodbye, brother mine. No flowers… by request."

Sherlock raises the gun toward his brother, shifting his finger more firmly onto the trigger of the gun and takes aim. On the screen behind him, Eurus speaks breathlessly, her eyes wide.

"Jim Moriarty thought you'd make this choice. He was so excited."

The lights in the room turn red and Jim appears on the screen, speaking more softly than previously.

"And here we are, at the end of the line. Holmes killing Holmes. This is where I get off."

The lights go white and Eurus is back on the screen. Sherlock's gaze is fixed on his brother, his expression grim, almost clenching his teeth.

"Five minutes. It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us."

He turns his eyes towards John, who looks at him more closely. Sherlock returns his gaze to his brother, then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, pressing his lips together for a moment before lowering the gun and turning away.

"Well, not on my watch."

Mycroft looks startled. John turns to face Sherlock, licking his lips. Eurus calls out of the speakers.

"What are you doing?"

"A moment ago, a brave man asked to be remembered. I'm remembering the governor."

Holding the pistol in both hands, he lifts the muzzle and presses the end under his chin.

"Ten."

I shake my head and turn away from him, as Eurus calls out again.

"No, No, Sherlock."

"Nine… Eight…"

"You can't!"

"Seven…"

"You don't know about Redbeard yet."

"Six…"

"Sherlock!"

"Five…"

"Sherlock, stop that at once!"

"Four…"

Just then I feel a small prick in the side of my neck. When I grab what hit me, I pull it around and see that it's a dart. I can hear Sherlock's voice growing weaker as he continues on.

"Three… Two…"

I turn and see Sherlock fall backward, but before I can step forward I feel my legs growing weak. Falling as well and once I hit the ground everything goes black.


	47. The Well

Chapter Forty-Seven

The Well

When I wake up I am in a small room with a rubble pile in the corner of the room and a screen on one of the walls. As I try to reach up to rub my head, I notice that my hands are chained to a nearby wall. But I can hear Sherlock and the girl talking in my ear, sadly, I can't answer since I can't reach for my ear.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yes. Yeah. No, I'm still here. I'm here."

"You went away. You said you'd help me and you both went away."

"Yes, I know. Well, I'm sorry about that. We… we much have gotten cut off. Um… how... How long were we away?"

"Hours. Hours and hours. Why don't grown-ups tell the truth?"

"No, we were telling the truth. You can trust me."

"Then where's the lady who was on the phone?"

"I'm not sure where she is right now but you and I can work this out together. Um, now, I tell you what. You-you've got to be really, really brave for me. Can you go to the front of the plane? Can you do that?"

"The front?"

"Yes. That's right; the front."

"You mean where the driver is?"

"Yes, that's it."

"Okay. I'm going."

"Are you there yet?"

The little girl doesn't answer but John does. I let out a revealed sigh when I hear his voice.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"John!"

"Yeah."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know. I've just woken up. Where are you and Madison?"

I wish I could tell them I'm alright but I can't turn my microphone on since I can't reach my ear.

"I'm in another cell, I'm not sure where Madison is. But, I just spoke to the girl on the plane again. We've been out for hours."

"The little girl is still on the plane?"

"Yes. The plane will keep flying until it runs out of fuel. Is Mycroft with you?"

"I have no idea. I can hardly see anything. Mycroft? Mycroft?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Well, just keep exploring. Tell me anything you can about where you are."

"The walls are ... rough. They're rock, I guess."

"What are you standing on?"

"Uh, stone, I think. But listen: there's about two feet of water. Chains. Yeah, my feet are chained up. I can feel something. Bones, Sherlock. There are bones in here."

"What kind of bones?"

"Uh, I dunno. S-small."

Sherlock lowers his voice.

"Redbeard."

I lay my head back against the wall as I hear the girl over the earpiece.

"Who's Redbeard?"

"Oh, hello. Are you at the front of the plane now?"

"Yeah. I still can't wake the driver up."

"That's all right. What can you see now?"

"I can see a river. And there's... There's... There's a big wheel."

Oh god, she doesn't mean the London Eye. Please God, tell me she doesn't mean the London Eye.

"All right. Well, you and I are going to have to drive this plane together. Just you and me."

"We are?"

"Yeah, there's nothing to it. We just need to get in touch with some people on the ground. Now, um, can you see anything that looks like a radio?"

"No."

"That's all right. Well, we ... keep looking. We've got plenty of time."

The girl screams.

"What's wrong?"

"The whole plane's shaking."

"It's just turbulence. It's nothing to worry about."

"My ears hurt."

"Does the river look like it's getting closer?"

"A-a little bit."

"All right, then. That means you're nearly home."

John calls out into the earpiece.

"Sherlock? I'm in a well. That's where I am; I'm in the bottom of a well."

"Why would there be a well in Sherrinford? Wait, I'm home. Musgrave Hall."

Eurus comes over the earpiece.

"Me and Jim Moriarty, we got on like a house on fire… which reminded me of home."

"Yeah, it's just an old building. I don't care. The plane; tell me about the plane NOW!"

"Sweet Jim. He was never very interested in being alive, especially if he could make more trouble being dead."

"Yeah, still not interested. The plane!"

"You knew he'd take his revenge. His revenge apparently is me"

"Eurus, let me speak to the little girl on the plane and I'll play any game you like."

"First find Redbeard. I'm letting the water in now. You don't want me to drown another one of your pets, do you? At long last, Sherlock Holmes, it's time to solve the Musgrave Ritual. our very first case! And the final problem. Oh. Bye-bye."

As Eurus speaks I hear what sounds like a door open and then close.

"Hello! Hello! Someone help me!"

After shouting into the other room, I'm shocked to see Sherlock rush into the room.

"Madison! Oh my God, are you alright?"

"I… I think so… She's got me chained up."

As Sherlock kneels down next to me we hear John over the earpiece.

"Sherlock?"

Eurus begins to sing her little tune again as the screen in the room shows water falling.

" I that am lost / Oh, who will find me / Deep down below …"

"Sherlock!"

I look up to Sherlock.

"Go! Go save John!"

Sherlock nods as he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and runs out of the room as Eurus continues singing.

" The old beech tree? Help succor me now ... The East winds blow … Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go …"

"John? John, can you hear me? John!"

I look around the room so that I don't have to listen to this over the earpiece. The earpiece is exploding with the mixture of the girl, John, and Eurus.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

"Sherlock!"

" Be not afraid …"

"It's flooding. The well is flooding."

Sherlock being Sherlock makes the obvious solution.

"Try as long as possible not to drown."

"What?"

"I'm going to find you. I am finding you!"

"Well, hurry up, please, because I don't have long!"

The girl screams again as I notice the only way I have to get out the chain is to try and break them with one of the rocks in the corner of the room.

"It's leaning over, the whole plane!"

I manage to reach one of the rocks, once I do I turn to put the cuffs between the rock and the pile of rocks, and push on the rock with my feet. This isn't the most comfortable position, but if it's going to get me out of here to help Sherlock find John, save the girl and stop Eurus.

I can still hear Sherlock over the earpiece.

"Eurus, you said the answer's in the song … but I went through the song line by line all those years ago … I found nothing. I couldn't find anything. And there-there was a beech tree in the grounds and I dug. I dug and dug and dug and dug. Sixteen feet by six; sixteen yards; sixteen meters – and I found nothing. No-one."

"It was a clever little puzzle, wasn't it? So why couldn't you work it out, Sherlock?"

As Eurus teases her brother I manage to break the cuffs and stand, running out of the room. Running into Sherlock.

"You focus on helping the girl, I'm gonna go find John. Don't say anything to let Eurus know I'm free."

Sherlock nods as I run out of the house and hear John over the earpiece.

"Sherlock? There's something you need to know."

I hear Eurus taunt Sherlock

"Emotional context. And he-e-e-e-re it comes."

"Sherlock? The bones I found."

"Yes? They're dogs' bones. That's Redbeard."

"Mycroft's been lying to you; to all three of us. They're not dogs' bones."

"Remember Daddy's allergy? What was he allergic to? What would he never let you have all those times you begged? Well, he'd never let you have a dog. You were upset … so you told yourself a better story... but we never had a dog."

I run through the field, only now realizing that I was barefoot, but it doesn't slow me down. I try to find the well and thankfully it doesn't take me long. Once I get there I lean my head over the side, after noticing there is a rather large hose in the well.

"John!"

"Madison! Where did you come from? Does Sherlock know you're here?"

"Yes, but Eurus doesn't, so let's keep it that way."

I stand up straight, pulling myself back from the side of the well and step over to the hose. Pushing it to try and get it to move. It is extremely heavy and long, so while I can move it a little bit, I don't think I'd be able to take it out of the well.

"Now, don't hurt yourself Madison, remember it's not just you up there."

I lean my head over the side again.

"Exactly, and this little baby isn't growing up without their Uncle John and Rosie isn't growing up without her father!"

As I go to look for the knob, I hear Sherlock over the earpiece, his voice is shaky.

"Victor Trevor. We played pirates. I was Yellowbeard and he was… he was Redbeard."

"You were inseparable. But I wanted to play too."

"Oh. Oh, God. What … what did you do?"

" I that am lost / Oh, who will find me / Deep down below / The old beech tree? "

"Victor."

"Deep waters, Sherlock, all your life. In all your dreams. Deep waters."

"You killed him. You killed my best friend."

"I never had a best friend. I had no-one. No-one."

Not far away from the well I find the end of the hose and try to turn the knob. I can't help but think that it's odd no one is there. As I start to pull on the knob to turn the water off I realize why. It is extremely heavy, but I finally get it turned off. When I do I run back to John.

"John!"

"Yeah! I'm fine, Madison!"

I sigh and fall to the ground leaning against the well.

"Are you alright."

"Yeah… I'm just… just exhausted."

John chuckles.

"Yeah, welcome to parenthood."

As I chuckle at John's joke I hear the girl on the earpiece.

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Need your help. I'm trying to solve a puzzle."

"But what about the plane?"

"Well, the puzzle will save the plane. The wrong dates. She used the wrong dates on the gravestones as the key to the cipher ... and the cipher was the song."

John calls out over the earpiece.

"Is this strictly relevant?"

"Yes, it is. I'll be with you in a minute."

"The lights are getting closer."

"Hush, now. Working. Let's number the words of the song. Then rearrange the numbered words to match the sequence on the gravestones. I ... am ... lost ... Help ... me ... brother ... Save ... My ... Life ... Before ... my ... Doom. I ... am ... Lost ... Without ... your ... love ... Save ... My ... soul ... seek ... my ... room."

The girl cries out, panic-stricken.

"We're going to crash! I'm going to die!"

"I think it's time you told me your real name."

"I'm not allowed to tell my name to strangers."

"But I'm not a stranger, am I? I'm your brother."

I stand up and hear John call out from in the well.

"He's what?"

"I don't know. Stay here, I'll be back."

As I run off I hear John yell from behind me.

"Yeah, don't worry about me going away here!"

When I run into the house, I run up the stairs and see a light coming from one of the rooms. I sneak up by it and hear Eurus and Sherlock inside, as they speak I text Greg and let him know what's going on and where we are.

"I'm in the plane, and I'm going to crash."

Eurus sounds child-like as she speaks.

"And you're going to save me."

"Look how brilliant you are. Your mind has created the perfect metaphor. You're high above us, all alone in the sky, and you understand everything except how to land. Now, I'm just an idiot, but I'm on the ground. I can bring you home."

"No. no. no. it's too late now."

"No, it's not. It's not too late."

"Every time I close my eyes, I'm on the plane. I'm lost, lost in the sky and ... no-one can hear me."

"Open your eyes. I'm here. You're not lost anymore. Now, you ... you just ... you just went the wrong way last time, that's all. This time, get it right. Tell me how to save my friend. Eurus … Help me save John Watson."

I knock on the door and step in.

"Sherlock, John is fine I got the water turned off."

Sherlock nods looking up at me, Eurus is crying and looks as though she is truly sorry and worried about what will happen to her.

"Also, Greg and I'd bet the British Government is on their way."

I glance over to Eurus and sigh.

"There is just one thing I want to know."

Eurus stays quiet looking toward the ground.

"How did you know? About the baby? Sherlock and I didn't even know."

"There is one thing wrong with people like us. We only see what we wish."


	48. The News

Chapter Forty-Eight

The News

Later, Eurus is being led away from the house by two police officers. She still looks tearful. Police cars and vans are parked all around and a helicopter's rotors can be heard nearby. Some distance away, Sherlock watches her. John and I are beside him, wrapped in grey blankets. Greg walks over to us.

"I just spoke to your brother, Sherlock."

"How is he?"

"He's a bit shaken up, that's all. She didn't hurt him; she just locked him in her old cell."

John chuckles softly.

"What goes around comes around."

Greg nods.

"Yeah. Give me a moment."

Sherlock calls out to Greg as he walks by.

"Oh, um. Mycroft – make sure he's looked after. He's not as strong as he thinks he is."

"Yeah, I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Greg."

John, who has been huddling into his blanket, lifts his head and Greg turns back again and looks at him in surprise before walking away. I laugh softly and wrap an arm though Sherlock's. Eurus has been loaded into a reinforced cell inside one of the police vans. She sits on a side bench as a police officer closes the door. Lestrade goes over to one of the officers at the scene. Sherlock just stares at his sister in the cell.

"You okay?"

"I said I'd bring her home. I can't, can I?"

"you gave her what she was looking for: context."

"Is that good?"

John sighs stepping from beside me to beside Sherlock.

"It's not good, it's not bad. It's … It is what it is."

The three of us stand there is silence for a moment before John steps in front of the two of us and our gazes shift from Eurus to him.

"So are you two okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't we be."

Sherlock askes matter of factly.

"Uhh… because Madison is pregnant, or Eurus said she was anyway."

I sigh.

"I'm going to go into the clinic tomorrow and get checked out."

The next morning comes all to quickly, Sherlock, John, and I had only gotten back to the flat and started cleaning for about thirty minutes before I had to head out to the clinic. Which didn't really make much of a difference since John wouldn't let me clean since we still didn't know if I was pregnant or not. As for Sherlock. I'm not sure the idea has sunk in yet. All I know for sure is that I had to meet with Sherlock and Mycroft later today at Mycroft's office.

Once I get to the clinic I wait among the few others who had gotten there this early. When I get called back I explain what has been going on, minus the crazy sister-in-law and the doctor orders the regular tests to check for pregnancy. When he comes back I am shocked by the news. Eurus had been telling the truth. While I wasn't very far along, I was in fact pregnant.

Once I am finished at the clinic I rush to Mycroft's office. Excited and very nervous to tell Sherlock the news. However, when I get there Mr. and Mrs. Holmes are there and rather steamed with Mycroft, shouting at him as I enter the room.

"Alive?! For all these years? How is that even possible?!"

Mycroft hesitates slightly, his eyes lowered.

"What Uncle Rudy began… I thought it best to continue."

"I'm not asking how you did it, idiot boy, I'm asking how could you?"

"I was trying to be kind."

He raises his eyes his mother at the end of his sentence.

"Kind?! Kind? You told us that our daughter was dead."

"Better that than tell you what she had become. I'm sorry."

Mr. Holmes stands up and leans his hands on the table.

"Whatever she became, whatever she is now, Mycroft… she remains our daughter."

"And my sister."

Mrs. Holmes takes a deep breath.

"Then you should have done better."

Sherlock whispers softly, looking to the ground as he had done since I had stepped into the room.

"He did his best."

"Then he's very limited. Where is she?"

"Back in Sherrinford; secure, this time... People have died… Without doubt, she will kill again if she has the opportunity. There's no possibility she'll ever be able to leave."

"When can we see her?"

"There's no point. She won't talk. She won't communicate with anyone in any way. She has passed beyond our view. There are no words that can reach her now."

Mrs. Holmes turns to Sherlock, still not noticing I'm at the door.

"Sherlock… Well? You were always the grown-up. What do we do now?"

"I'm not sure."

I sigh softly, making my presence in the room known.

"Mycroft, you can't keep your Mother and Father away from your sister. Even if she won't speak they have a right and a need to see her."

Everyone attention turns to me. Mrs. Holmes steps towards me.

"I'm sorry dear, we should have waited for the whole family to be here."

"It's fine, I understand why you couldn't and why you didn't."

"Well, we are all here now."

I nod and look at Sherlock.

"Yes, we are all here."

I stress this statement and as I do Sherlock's eyes snap up to me, then down to the envelope in my hand with the test results on them. I knew them, but I knew Sherlock would want the medical proof of it.

"Is that?"

He points to the envelope.

I nod.

"Yes, do you want to read it or do you want me to tell you?"

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes look between the two of us confused. Mycroft, still in his office chair behind his desk, simply shakes his head.

Sherlock takes the envelope and opens it as Mrs. Holmes takes another step forward me, placing her hand on my upper arm.

"Is everything alright dear? You aren't ill are you?"

I shake my head, but before I can answer Sherlock, who is reading over the page, does.

"No, but she can expect to nauseous, tired, and moody for the next 9-11 months."

Sherlock looks to me from the paper, with a very stern and serious look. I can't tell if he is happy about this or if he is still trying to process it or what, but I don't like it when I can't read him. As he steps closer to me, he hands the test results to his mother, who, of course, quickly begins reading over them. Stopping in front of me, he keeps a stern look on his face and I look up into his eyes.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and smiles brightly, placing his hands on my cheeks as he leans his forehead to mine, and I place my hands on his forearms as tears roll down our cheeks.

"A baby?"

"Yeah, a little you."

"Hopefully, a lot of you."

We laugh softly and smiles, tears still in our eyes on streaming down our cheeks. I hear Mr. and Mrs. Holmes exclaim with excitement after reading the results.

"I'm going to be a grandmother!"

Sherlock separates from me to allow his mother to give me a hug, as his father wraps an arm around his neck.

"Not only did you find the perfect woman for you, but you married her and you're starting a family."

I glance over to Sherlock, ready for him to say 'we aren't married.' But instead, he smiles and nods, turning to give his father a hug.

"Yeah, I did."

When the Holmes family went to go see Eurus, I did not, for reason everyone understood. The boys had managed to get the house cleaned up and we had replaced everything in it. Which mean that the boys could start taking cases again. John had decided not to move back into the flat, but he and Rosie were there every day. Sherlock loved spending him with little Rosie and was very good with her. Every now and then when the boys left to solve a case Molly would come to help me take care of Rosie and get a few things done around the flat. Mrs. Hudson was also a huge help. Of course, in the first month, I didn't really have the energy to do a whole lot, but I got up and powered through it.

Between you and me. I'm just happy I get to wear flats and stretchy pants for 8 more months.

Yes, they are dressy stretchy pants, but they are very comfortable, and so are pregnancy dresses. OH, MY GOD! I have never known this comfort in fashion.


	49. The Abominable Bride, Part One

The second Afghan War brought honors and promotion to many. But to some, it meant nothing but misfortune and disaster. Which was the case for a young man by the name of Dr. John Watson. However, it did put him in contact with his close friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Mr. Holmes' young companion, Madison Moriarty. The two are a rather odd couple, both being extremely intelligent and observant and the only reason the two of them did not live together was that it would be inappropriate for a young woman to live with a man she isn't married to. However, the two still spend nights on end with each other when Sherlock isn't working a case.

John had married his wife, Mary Marton, now Mary Watson, in the spring of 1885. However, even after marriage, the two men had been able to work on murder cases together. But in all their many adventures together, now case had pushed the two to such mental and physical extremes as that of the Abominable Bride. After being out one day the two men arrive back at the flat to find two women standing in their sitting room. One woman dressed head to toe in black, with a lace hat and gloves, with the lace scarf on the hat covering her face. The second woman is dressed in a deep red, also with a small hat and gloves, with her lace scarf covering her face as well. The two men are surprised by the two woman.

"Good Lord!"

Holmes turns back to the hall, loudly shouting down the stairs.

"Mrs. Hudson, There are two women in my sitting room! Is this intentional?"

Mrs. Hudson calls up from the lower level of the flat.

"They're clients! Said you were out; insisted on waiting."

 _Holmes grimaces. Watson picks up two chairs near the table and turns to put them down in front of the women._

 _"Would you two, er, care to sit down?"_

 _The women don't move or respond to him. Holmes is still shouting down the stairs._

 _"Didn't you ask them what they wanted?"_

 _"You ask them!"_

 _"Well, why didn't you ask them?"_

 _"_ How could I, what with me not talking and everything?"

 _Holmes rolls his eyes and sighs. He turns and walks back into the sitting room._

 _"Oh, for God's sake."_

 _Holmes walks towards the women and smiles to them._

 _"_ Good afternoon. I'm Sherlock Holmes. This is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson. You may speak freely in front of him, as he rarely understands a word. However, before you do, allow me to make some trifling observations."

He walks closer to the woman in black, circling around her while she continues to stand there impassively.

"You have an impish sense of humor which currently you're deploying to ease a degree of personal anguish. You have recently married a man of a seemingly kindly disposition who has now abandoned you for an unsavory companion of dubious morals. You have come to this agency as a last resort in the hope that reconciliation may still be possible."

Holmes stops and turns to the woman in red, who is also standing impassively.

"You, my dear, are in love with a man of dubious morals. You have a scorching sense of humor and you are not promised to the man you love, as such you have been together for a few years, it would be odd to say you weren't, if not for the view the two of you have on marriage."

Watson listens in astonishment.

"Good Lord, Holmes."

"All of this is, of course, perfectly evident from your perfumes."

"Their perfumes?"

"Yes, their perfumes, which brings insight to me and disaster to you."

"How so?"

"Because I recognized them and you did not."

Holmes steps back to the woman in black and undoing _the woman's veil and pulls it clear of her face. As he walks away from her, Watson instantly recognizes her._

 _"Mary!"_

 _Mrs. Watson smiles to her husband._

 _"John"_

"Why, in God's name, are you pretending to be a client?"

"Because I could think of no other way to see my husband, Husband."

Holmes moves over to the woman in red and smiles down at her, undoing her veil as well.

"Should I guess why you are here as well, Madison?"

Miss. Moriarty smiles back up to Holmes and tilts her head.

"I think you already know why I'm here posing as a client."

"Watson, the woman in our lives are nothing but trouble."

"Oh, you are just realizing that now, are you?"

"No, I've known it since the day I met you. I did not, however, foresee the trouble the two of you would be together."

 _Not long afterward, Holmes has taken off his jacket and put on a camel-colored dressing gown over his clothes. Holding his violin and standing facing the right-hand window, he is playing a wedding waltz. Mrs. is standing near Holmes, sitting in the leather-bound chair in the room. Mrs. Watson still stands near the fireplace and Watson is pacing nearby but now turns back to his wife and speaks angrily to her._

 _"_ It was an affair of international intrigue."

"It was a murdered country squire."

"Nevertheless, matters were pressing."

"I don't mind you going, my darling. I mind you leaving me behind!"

"But what could you _do_?!"

"Oh, what do _you_ do except wander round, taking notes, looking surprised ..."

 _Holmes stops playing and angrily lowers his violin._

 _"Enough!"_

 _The others fall silent and look at him. He doesn't turn round._

 _"_ The stage is set, and the curtain rises. We are ready to begin."

"Begin what, dear?"

"Sometimes, to solve a case, one must first solve another."

"Oh, you have a case, then, a new one?"

"An old one. Very old. I shall have to go deep."

"Deep? Into what?"

"Myself."

 _He gazes out of the window for a moment longer, then turns and calls over his shoulder._

 _"_ Lestrade! Do stop loitering by the door and come in."

 _The door to the sitting room opens and Inspector Lestrade comes in, breathing heavily and looking anxious. He glances towards the table in between the windows before looking towards the people near the fireplace._

 _"_ How did you know it was me?"

Holmes turns from the window, placing a hand on the back of the chair the young Miss. Love is sitting in.

"The regulation tread is unmistakable; lighter than Jones, heavier than Gregson."

" I-I-I just came up. Mrs. Hudson didn't seem to be talking."

Holmes rolls his eyes, reaching _towards a Turkish slipper on the table beside his chair and takes out some tobacco to fill his pipe._

"I fear she's branched into literary criticism by means of satire. It is a distressing trend in the modern landlady. What brings you here in your off-duty hours?"

"How'd you know I'm off-duty?"

"Well, since your arrival you've addressed over forty percent of your remarks to my decanter. Watson, give the inspector what he so clearly wants."

 _Watson walks across the room while Lestrade takes off his hat. Watson picks up the decanter and pours a drink._

 _"_ So, Lestrade, what can we do for you?"

"Oh, I'm not here on business. I just thought I'd ... drop by."

"A social call?"

"Yeah, of course, just to wish you the compliments of the season."

 _Holmes takes his pipe from his mouth and looks pointedly at the inspector. Lestrade looks at him a little nervously and then raises his glass, looking across to Mary, then to Madison._

 _"_ Merry Christmas?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

"Thank God that's over. Now, Inspector, what strange happening compels you to my door but embarrasses you to relate?"

"Who said anything happened?"

" _You_ did, by every means short of actual speech."

 _Lestrade has taken a long drink from his glass and now closes his eyes before shaking his head and opening his eyes again. Lestrade drinks deeply and then sighs with relief, as Watson raises a finger._

 _"_ Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, Holmes? You have misdiagnosed."

"Then correct me, Doctor."

"He didn't _want_ a drink ... he _needed_ one. He's not embarrassed; he's afraid."

Watson takes the _glass from Lestrade and turns it upside down to show that it is empty. Lestrade looks down, putting his gloved hand to his mouth and looking anxious. Holmes smirks, looking for Mrs. Watson and Miss. Moriarty._

 _"_ My Boswell is learning. They do grow up so fast. Watson, restore the courage of Scotland Yard. Inspector, do sit down."

Holmes _gestures to the dining chair with his pipe and picks up a match. Lestrade picks up the chair, moving it near to Watson's armchair so that he can sit facing Holmes._

 _"_ I'm-I'm not afraid, exactly."

"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It is nothing to be ashamed of. From the beginning, then."

"There was a woman, dressed in a wedding gown and firing two revolves into the street below her bedroom balcony. Shouting 'You!' over and over again as she fired. She had lipstick smeared all over her lips and..."

"When was this?"

"Yesterday morning."

"The bride's face. How was it described?"

"White as death... mouth like a crimson wound."

"Poetry or truth?"

"Many would say they're the same thing."

"Yes, idiots. Poetry or truth?"

"I saw her face myself. Afterward."

"After what?"

"After she shot herself in the head."

"Really, Lestrade. A woman blows her own brains out in public and you need help identifying the guilty party. I fear Scotland Yard has reached a new low."

"That's not why I'm here."

"I surmise."

Watson looks up from the notebook on his lap.

"What was her name, the bride?"

"Emelia Ricoletti. Yesterday was her wedding anniversary. The police, of course, were called, and her body taken to the morgue."

Holmes shakes head, looking down to the floor then back to Lestrade.

"Standard procedure. Why are you telling us what may be presumed?"

"Because of what happened next. Limehouse, just a few hours later. Thomas Ricoletti, Emelia Ricoletti's husband."

"Presumably on his way to the morgue to identify her remains."

"As it turned out, he was saved the trip. When he was leaving his favorite opium den, he was stopped outside by a woman dressed in a bridal gown. When the woman lifted her veil he identified her to be his wife, Emilia Ricoletti. She shot him and walked away, disappearing into the night."

"Extraordinary!"

"Impossible!"

The women look to each other in astonishment, as Holmes cross to the door.

"Superb! Suicide as street theatre; murder by a corpse. Lestrade, you're spoiling us. Watson, your hat, and coat."

"Where are we going?"

"To the morgue. There's not a moment to lose... which one can so rarely say of a morgue."

As Holmes takes off his dressing gown and puts on his jacket, Mrs. Watson, and Miss. Moriarty stand.

"And are we to just sit here."

Watson smiles at the two of them.

"Not at all, my dear. We'll be hungry later! Holmes, just one thing? Tweeds, in a morgue?"

"Needs must when the devil drives, Watson."

"Miss. Moriarty got it for you, did she?"

"Possibly..."

The two men leave the flat. As they do Lestrade stands.

"Ma'am."

"We're part of a campaign, you know."

"Oh yeah? Which one?"

Miss. Moriarty stands next to Mrs. Watson.

"Votes for Women."

"And are you... are you for or against?"

The women point toward the door with very stern expressions, speaking simultaneously.

"Get out."

 _Looking bewildered, Lestrade turns and leaves. Mrs. Watson sits down in Watson's chair, props her head on her hand and stares into the fire, sighing in exasperation, as Miss. Moriarty sits in Holmes' chair, again, placing two fingers on right right hand on her forehead. Mrs. Hudson comes to the open door and knocks on it._

 _"_ Ooh-ooh! Oh. Have they gone off again, have they? I dunno – what a life those gentlemen lead."

"Yes, those gentlemen."

"Oh, never you mind. Ooh, almost forgot. This came for you."

 _Mrs. Hudson walks over and hands Mrs. Watson an envelope. She takes it and opens it. Mrs. Hudson stands nearby, trying to read the card which Mrs. Watson takes from the envelope, she and Miss. Moriarty read over the card as Mrs. Watson turns it over in her hand._

 _On one side is simply:_

 _M_

 _On the other side it says:_

 _Immediately._

 _The two women smile in delight, standing to leave._

 _"Mrs. Hudson, tell the boys we'll be home late. We have some urgent business."_

 _"_ Is everything all right?"

"Oh, you know, just a... friend in need."

The two women head out the door.

"Oh dear, what friend?"

Miss. Moriarty pokes her head back into the flat for a moment.

"England."

She turns back and follows Mrs. Watson down the stairs to the street below.


	50. The Abominable Bride, Part Two

Holmes and Watson had been working on their case for quite some time. They had gone to the home of one Lady Carmichael to investigate the sightings of the spirit of the late Emelia Ricoletti. Holmes was convinced that it was the work of one, James Moriarty, even though he had thrown his loves brother over a cliff, he still believe he was behind this.

One day Watson went to visit Holmes at his flat to finds him lying on the floor, with a small blue case, lined with a silky maroon cloth, with a needle next to it, lying next to him, Watson sighs and walks over in front of his friend, taking his hat off. "Morphine or Cocaine?" Holmes doesn't answer, but it does appear Watson woke him up. "Holmes... Morphine or Cocaine?" Holmes looks up to his friend and smooths his hair back. "Cocaine, a seven percent solution. Would you care for some?"

Watson shakes his head and looks down, taking a deep breath, "No, but I would very much like to find very ounce of it in your possession and pour it out the window." Holmes stands and picks up the blue case, putting it and the needle away, "I should be inclined to stop you." Watson moves close to his friend, speaking in a hushed tone, "Then you would be reminded... quite forcibly... which of us is a soldier and which of us a drug addict." Holmes scoffs softly, looking down at his friend. "You're not a soldier, you are a doctor."

Watson shakes his head, "No, I was an army doctor, which means I can break every bone in your body, while naming them. Do you think that Moriarty wants to see you like this." Watson sighs and shakes his head, "No, I'd imagine she does not wish to be around you while you're in this state, but she does not wish to say anything. Because she loves you, even though you seem to be reserved to show that to her in the slightest way. You are driving everyone away from you with this. Even the woman who, for some untold reason, loves you, even after all this."

Holmes sighs softly. "Dear Watson, you are allowing emotion to cloud your judgement." Watson takes a deep breath, before addressing his friend again. "Never on a case. You promised me, never on a case."

"No, I just said that in one of your stories."

Watson points at Holmes, breathing rapidly. "Listen, I am happy to play the fool for you. But dear God above. You will hold yourself to a higher standard." By the end of his sentence Watson is shouting. "Why?" Holmes turns back to his friend, looking at him rather confused.

"Because people need you to."

"What people? Why? Because of your idiot stories."

"Yes. because of my idiot stories. And because you have people, partially a young woman, who love you." Before Holmes can reply a young boy rushes into the flat, handing Holmes a telegram. "Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes. Telegram, Mr. Holmes." Then runs back out of the flat. Holmes opens the telegram and reads it. He looks shocked and raises his eyes to Watson, who reacts as if he's not interested in the contents but feels obliged to ask the question. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's the girls."

"What about them?"

"It's entirely possible they're in danger."

"Danger?"

"There's isn't a moment to lose." Holmes takes his dressing gown off and leaves the flat as Watson follows him, "Is this the cocaine talking? What danger could they possible be in? I'm sure they're just visiting with friends." "Come on!" Holmes calls out to him sternly as he hurries down the stairs, Watson follows. Near the bottom of the stairs, Holmes has to grab onto the banister rail to support himself as he stumbles. Grimacing, he continues into the hall, buttoning his coat.

Watson steps closer to his friend "What is happening? Are you even in a fit state?" Holmes takes his outer coat from the peg and starts to put it on. "For the girls, of course. Never doubt that, Watson. Never that." He breathes heavily and doubles over, groaning. "Holmes!" Watson helps him to straighten up. "I'm Fine!" Still breathing heavily, he reaches out and picks up his top hat. Watson snatches it away from him. "Not that one." He tosses it along the hallway and picks up the deerstalker. "This one."

"Why?"

"You're Sherlock Holmes wear the damn hat." Watson shaves the hat at Holmes, who glowers at him but puts it on. They hurry out into the street, which is busy with pedestrians, and Watson calls out loudly as Holmes runs to the kerb and looks up and down the road urgently. "Cab! Cab!"

The boys head out to find the Church that the girls are at. When they arrive they sneak in quietly finding the woman. Who are both dressed in almost riding attire, with pants and jackets. The two woman are hiding behind a pillar and step out then the two boys reach them, startling Watson. "What the Devil?!"

Mrs. Watson gestures on the other side on the other side of pillars, "We found them." They pause as distant chanting can be heard. Mary leads the others towards the sound. They descend some steps, where two small metal braziers on tripods are burning. Watson stands next to his wife and whispers softly, "What is all this?"

Mrs. Watson looks through the pillars. "This is the heart of it all, John, the heart of the conspiracy." They continue on into the vaults. The chanting, which sounds like Latin, gets louder, the voices sounding female. There are more burning braziers along the route. Mary and Madison turn and beckon the men to continue following them. They reach a pair of arched stone windows. Mary and Holmes go to one window and Watson and Madison to the other and they watch as, in another corridor across a gap, many figures process past. All of them are wearing dark blue robes and have pointed conical hats, reminiscent of the Ku Klux Klan, over their heads obscuring their faces. Watson speaks to the others quietly, "Great God, what is this place? And what the devil are you two doing here?"

The girls switch places as they look through the pillars, Miss. Moriarty gets on his tippy toes to see through the window Holmes is looking through, "We've been making enquiries, Mr. Holmes asked us."

"Holmes, how could you?!"

Mrs. Watson shakes her head, "No, not him, the clever one. It seemed obvious to us that this business could not be managed alone." Moriarty nods and looks toward Watson. "Our theory is that Mrs Ricoletti had help – help from her friends."

Holmes nods and looks to the girls, "Bravo." He looks to Mrs. Watson finally catching up with what she just said. "The Clever One?"

Watson takes a deep breath. "I thought I was losing you. I thought perhaps we were neglecting each other." Holmes shrugs his shoulders, "Well you were the one who moved out." Watson closes his eyes, "I was talking to Mary. But you two are working for Mycroft?"

Moriarty nods and looks over to John, "He likes to keep an eye on his mad sibling." Holmes glances toward Watson, "And he had spies on hand. Has it occurred to you that these two are excessively skilled?" Moriarty laughs softly, "Of course, it hasn't. When did it occur to you?"

"Just now I'm afraid." Mrs. Watson looks up to Holmes, "Must be difficult being the slow little brother."

"Time I sped up. Enough chatter. Let's concentrate."

The group turns back to watch the procession, "Yes, all right. What's all this about? What do they want to accomplish?"

"Why don't we go and find out?" Holmes turns and hurries away, the others following. They run through the vaults, passing large fires burning around various columns which support the roof, and eventually reach a small chapel where the robed figures have gathered, still chanting. Holmes enters through the doorway behind them and sees a suspended gong to one side. Picking up its mallet, he strikes the gong loudly. The figures stop chanting and turn to face him. "Sorry. I could never resist a gong. Or a touch of the dramatic. Though it seems you share my enthusiasm in that regard." He walks through the middle of the crowd. The figures stand silently in even rows either side of him. "Excellent."

Mary throws a nervous glance at her husband, who is staring around the chapel in awe. As Holmes continues, "Superlative theatre. I applaud the spectacle. Emelia Ricoletti shot herself, then apparently returned from the grave and killed her husband. So, how was it done? Let's take the events in order. Mrs Ricoletti gets everyone's attention in very efficient fashion. Once she had the crowd's attention she places one of the revolvers in her mouth while actually firing the other into the ground. An accomplice sprays the curtains with blood... and thus her apparent suicide is witnessed by the frightened crowd below. A substitute corpse bearing a strong resemblance to Mrs Ricoletti takes her place and is later transported to the morgue. A grubby little suicide of little interest to Scotland Yard. Meanwhile the real Mrs Ricoletti slips away. Now comes the really clever part. Mrs Ricoletti persuaded a cab driver – someone who knew her – to intercept her husband outside his favorite opium den. The perfect stage for a perfect drama. A perfect positive identification. The late Mrs. Ricoletti has returned from the grave and with a little skilled makeup you and you have the wrath of a vengeful ghost. There was only one thing left to do. All that remained was to substitute the real Mrs Ricoletti for the corpse in the morgue. This time, should anyone attempt to identify her… it would be positively, absolutely her."

Watson steps towards Holmes "But why would she do that – die to prove a point?"

Miss. Moriarty steps forward and evens herself with Holmes, "Every great cause has martyrs; every war has suicide missions – and make no mistake, this is war. One half of the human race at war with the other. The invisible army hovering at your elbow, attending to your homes, raising your children, ignored, patronised, disregarded, not allowed so much as a vote."

Holmes nods and focuses his attention on Moriarty, "but an army nonetheless, ready to rise up in the best of causes, to put right an injustice as old as humanity itself. So, you see, Watson, Mycroft was right. This is a war we must lose." He turns to Watson as he speaks. "She was dying."

"Who was?"

"Emelia Ricoletti. There were clear signs of consumption. I doubt she was long for this world."

Holmes nods. "So she decided to make her death count. She was already familiar with the secret societies of America and was able to draw on their methods of fear and intimidation to publicly – very publicly – confront Sir Eustace Carmichael with the sins of his past"

A young woman steps out of the crowd, "He knew her out in the States. Promised her everything… marriage, position – and then he had his way with her and threw her over, left her abandoned and penniless."

"Hooper!" Holmes looks to the woman a little surprised. The young woman had been posing as a man in order to run the morgue and had met Holmes and Watson when they came to look over bodies for cases. "Holmes."

Watson steps forward, "For the record, Holmes, she didn't have me fooled" Holmes turns and stares at him. Watson smiles in a rather satisfied way. Then his gaze shifts and he stares in surprise as one of the women leans into view and waves cheekily at him. It is his maid. Jane finishes her wave and steps back. Watson looks a little awkward as Holmes smirks. Miss. Moriarty looks up to Holmes. "Emelia thought that she'd found happiness with Ricoletti, but he was a brute too. Emelia Ricoletti was our friend. You have no idea how that bastard treated her."

Holmes is still staring at her as if confused, Watson questions, "But ... the Bride, Holmes. We saw her." Holmes turns to Watson, "Yes, Watson, we did. But the sound of breaking glass? Not a window. Just an old theatrical trick." Miss. Moriarty smiles up at Holmes, rather proud they were able to trick Holmes and Watson for so long, "It's called Pepper's Ghost."

Holmes nods, "A simple reflection, in glass, of a living breathing person. Their only mistake was breaking the glass when they removed it. Look around you. This room is full of Brides. Once she had risen, anyone could be her. The avenging ghost – a legend to strike terror into the heart of any man with malicious intent; a spectre to stalk those unpunished brutes whose reckoning is long overdue. A league of furies awakened." Holmes looks around the group and then back to Miss. Moriarty, not taking his eyes off her as he speaks "The women I... we have lied to, betrayed… the women we have ignored... and disparaged. Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed. This is the work of a single-minded person, someone who knew first-hand about Sir Eustace's mental cruelty. A dark secret, kept from all but her closest friends… including Emelia Ricoletti… the woman her husband wronged all those years before."

Holmes finishes his deductions as he and Miss. Moriarty look into each other's eyes. It is clear that girls were aware all of this and it was also Moriarty's way of tell him things needed to change, and they would have to if she were to stay with him. Holmes nods and lightly takes Moriarty's left hand and runs his thumb over her ring finger, letting her know that he understood.


End file.
